Forget Me Not
by Tatiana K
Summary: Izabelle's mutation makes everyone to forget she exists. Will her mutation destroy her relationship with Hank? And how can she hope to save him from a MRD brainwash when all others have forgotten her? Hank/OC FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1: Blushing

**Chapter One: Blushing**

Blue eyes watched a screen feed him sample results. Hank McCoy was not focused on the results though. His mind wandered around aimlessly until landing back on the small ache that was growing more and more present. He was nearly thirty-five. And he was alone. People who made it to thirty-five alone died alone. He was past the point where he regretted things in the past with women. He now felt an ache to be with someone for...well, for life. He sighed and combed his hair back with his fingers. Like anyone would want a thirty-something beast; it was the worst of all options.

"_Could all staff please meet in my office."_

The mental announcement was nothing out of the usual so Hank never suspected for a moment that what he would find that day would have any lasting effect on his life. He left what he was working on in his lab and meandered up to Xavier's large office.

When he walked in, he was greeted with the usual warm wood, leaf-speckled sunshine, and old leather smell. Most of the others were there already and talking to Xavier and...someone else. He couldn't see whom.

"Now that Dr. McCoy is here I believe that is everyone." Xavier smiled and the group cleared from around his desk. With her back to Hank, a female sat facing the professor. Xavier nodded and she stood and faced the mutants.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet Izabelle Rowan. She will be living here for the foreseeable future and will take on classes where needed. She has come to us for help with some problems related to her mutations."

"If you don't mind me asking, Izabelle, what are your mutations?" Scott smiled his homecoming-king-esque smile at her, trying to make her feel more welcome.

She smiled back easily. Izabelle was average looking in most ways Beast noted– average height and build with short thick brown hair. "It is a hard thing to explain. I can control people's memories of me. I could be your own sister and cause you to forget you had ever met me." Izabelle gazed intensely into the eyes of whomever she spoke to, unusual but not intimidating.

"Can you plant memories?" Scott querried. Hank was curious; her mutation was bizarre to say the least.

"Not yet. That is one reason I am here."

Xavier smiled and broke in calmly. "Izabelle arrived late last night and will remain here with us for quite some time. So there will be ample time for those questions. For the time being, try to make Izabelle feel as at home as possible."

Scott nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to help someone were as serious a task as a rescue operation.

"Hank, if you could stay behind, I would like to have a word with you."

Even as Charles' friend, that sounded like he was being called into the principal's office. Since he had the time, Hank decided to just watch others with the "new girl."

Jean and Izabelle seemed to have already met and where Jean laughed quickly Izabelle was more reserved. But she was making those around her laugh frequently. She seemed totally at ease; the only thing that betrayed her nerves was her constant fiddling.

Izabelle could feel someone watching her and glanced over in Hank's direction. She noticed him watching her and actually looked at him. Their eyes met for the first time. He was clearly watching her, arms folded comfortably and leaning against a wall. He smiled and bowed his head at her. A tiny smile crept across her face and she looked away. But every so often she stole glances back at this man, always smiling and observing her.

Gradually, everyone left but Hank and Izabelle. Charles motioned for them both to sit and spoke to Hank. "Izabelle has come to us, not for shelter, but for medical and genetic help. Izabelle sporadically loses control of her mutations, causing anyone, no matter how close, to forget she even exists. If you would work with her to see if there is something that can be done to help her we would both be grateful. Jean and I will work with her on controlling her powers psychologically."

"I would be glad to assist in any way I can." When he spoke it was directly to her and she felt that he sincerely meant what he said. She smiled shyly in return.

Closer up Hank could better see her large eyes. She had bright hazel eyes, like amber and green sea glass.

"Glad to hear it." Charles looked pleased and began to shift through papers to resume working.

Hank padded quietly down the hall, wondering about the new woman. If he was to be working with her then there would be plenty of time to learn about her.

* * *

Izabelle left the office quietly. She was glad to have sometime to settle in but one thing concerned her: she had no idea where she was.

She had followed the Professor to his office from a classroom and did not think she could get back to her own room from here.

Up ahead, she saw blue turn a corner. She debated: chase after a total stranger or wander around the building until someone offered to help her. But he had been a very nice stranger. A sweet and sincere stranger.

She decided on the former.

* * *

Hank picked up the sound of small footsteps jogging up behind him and turned. He was surprised to be greeted by the sight of the new woman.

"Hello." His voice was amused and she blushed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No…but I can be if you would like."

Hank stared and then laughed loudly. Not the answer he had expected. She gave him a small, secret smile in return.

"I have a favor to ask, actually. I don't think I can find my way back to my room. Could you…help me?"

"The lady needs help. I will assist." He motioned her to his right and took up walking by her side. He was currently close to her in height, so if he stood straight she would be a head sorter than him.

Her posture was perfect as they walked together, seemingly in conflict with her casual jeans and jacket.

"I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name." Her voice was mellow and even.

"Dr. Hank McCoy."

"Izabelle Rowan." She extended her hand. Hank took it. Now that he was standing much closer to her, Hank could see that she was several years younger than him.

He was able to quickly find her room, on the edges of the dorms with other female staff.

"My things are here but I haven't had much of a chance to figure out where anything is. Would you mind…?"

"Not at all."

Hank helped her unlock the door and showed her where things were in the room; the bathroom and closet were built into the walls and at first were hard to find. Not to mention the emergency escape door that every bedroom now had.

Her window looked out over a piece of forest and the cliffs and ocean. She hefted open the window and leaned far out of it. Then she turned back to him, grinning. "It's so lovely! Everything is so fresh and like home."

Hank nodded abstractly, feeling the same about his own view. When Izabelle beamed at him like that she looked so...vibrant. He promised himself that he would do anything and all that he could to help her.

Izabelle cocked her head to the side, noticing the look he was giving her. His features were softened by it and the most human of his appearance shone through. She wondered what he had looked like as a "human," without the blue fur and claws. But he was still handsome. She shook her head clearing the unexpected and troubling thought. When she looked back at him, his clear blue eyes met hers and held tight for a moment before he looked away.

Hank gestured down the hall, "My lab is downstairs, in the basement. I look forward to seeing you in the near future."

She nodded and he shut the door with a soft click. Izabelle began to unpack, a small panic creeping into her calm. She could not get involved here, not with him and not with anyone. There were _plenty _of handsome men here and each and every one of them would forget her when her powers took control.

The familiar twinge of sorrow made her sit back and pause from her task. But it made it easier to do what she needed to do, to put up a wall distancing herself from those around her.

* * *

As with anything, news spread instantly that there was a new teacher and dinner was a tumble of students trying to scope her out without being what they considered to be obvious. They jostled her and stood on tiptoes to see her. Before too long Izabelle looked at the Professor and Jean, whom she was eating with. "Pardon me."

And, stepping carefully, Izabelle stood on her chair. There were shouts to other people in the room before all were looking at her and all sound died down. Some students and some adults were flat out gaping at her. A short hairy man was squinting at her like he couldn't believe his eyes. Izabelle concealed her smile.

"My name is Izabelle Rowan." The dining hall door opened and she met eyes with Hank; it caused her to falter uncertainly but she continued. "I am a new teacher here and I thought I would make it easier for the less subtle among you to see me. I am sure most of you will be seeing me again shortly." She gave a wry smile and then jumped lightly down to the floor. There was approving laughter and some of the room clapped. Xavier looked amused and Jean was laughing.

"They won't soon forget you now."

She began to respond to the red-head when a familiar voice sounded at her elbow. "Is this seat taken? Or should I save it for those who would like to admire you more closely?"

She turned to face him, blushing slightly. Izabelle had wound her hair up tightly and changed to a dress shirt and glasses. She looked older this way and very much more like a teacher. Now Hank wasn't sure how old she was.

"On one condition." Hank looked surprised and began to pick his things back up. "You must be willing to admire me if necessary."

He laughed, showing sharp white teeth, and replaced his things. "That is a task I am sure I can manage. But only if necessary, mind you."

Izabelle kicked herself. _Flirting is not keeping your distance!_ But despite her self-ridicule, giddiness crept in.

Xavier let Hank settle in before getting right to the point. "Given the nature of Izabelle's mutation, time is of the essence. From what she says, each loss of control results in a more powerful and lasting memory wipe. Jean and I believe that at it's most potent, Izabelle may be able to wipe memories entirely, not just memories of her. Obviously, we do not want that to happen. Would you mind taking her down and running some basic bloodwork and tests after dinner?"

"Anything to help."

As soon as he finished his meal, the two of them headed into the confines of the basement and his laboratory. Her small light footsteps were a nice addition to his own usually silent padding around down here. He left her to seat herself on a med ward bed as he prepared vials and needles.

"I hope you are okay with needles. I will need to take several different samples."

"I don't mind."

They waited in silence until Hank came over to her with his things. "If you don't mind my asking, how much do you know about any possibilities of a control or cure?"

She looked away as he began to take blood. He did not question it; being okay with needles is not the same as wanting to watch them.

Izabelle answered readily, which he had not expected. "Unfortunately not much. I've done various low level tests and even spoken to other mutants. I did not want to go further in my self-experimentation for fear of erasing myself permanently. The mutants I talked to, mostly telepaths, only said that it could be controlled somehow, but none could tell me more than that."

Hank was impressed. She had put real effort into finding a way to deal with her mutation. He was curious what sorts of tests she had done and reminded himself to inquire about that further.

"How often does..." Hank couldn't find the right word but Izabelle was nodding, knowing what he meant.

"There isn't a pattern that I can find. Some things do seem to act as triggers though: stress, high emotion, and the usual." That explained the total calm that she exuded. To some extent it was probably forced to keep her powers in check.

Izabelle felt herself getting light headed but ignored the feeling. It would be over soon and she was always a little weird about these sorts of things.

"How has this unpredictability effected your relationships?"

"I don't _have_ relationships." Her unoccupied hand flew to her face, biting a nail and speaking around it. "After knowing someone for months and then suddenly losing control again...to have to convince someone that they once cared about you or knew you at all...It was not worth it."

"I can understand your motivations in moving here, then." Hank felt sorry for her. He hadn't meant to upset her. She, like him, was locked out from normal relationships by her mutation.

She gnawed on her nail distractedly until she noticed him watching her. She instantly whipped her hands back down. "Sorry." She smiled bashfully. She put a hand to her head as he removed the last needle. Maybe she should have said something.

And then, as soon as Hank capped the last vial, she fell slowly forward, off of the medical bed. Hank made a quick dash and caught her clumsily. She had acted fine!

Even as he tried to adjust his hold on her, her eyes fluttered and she struggled to hold her own weight.

"Easy." Hank carefully lifted her and set her back on the raised bed, her feet swinging in the air. Izabelle could feel him holding her there, safe, and waited for the fog to clear out of her brain.

"Why didn't you say anything?" To Izabelle, his voice betrayed concern she did not expect.

"It needed to be done. This generally happens but I'm always fine." She sounded as fuzzy as she felt.

They both waited a few minutes and she was soon able to hold herself up normally. Hank shook his head at her but did not chastise her.

"I do know what I'm doing."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Oh do you?"

"If I had said anything you would have gotten one half of one sample every time you tried. I'm not a doctor but I've done this before."

He could not help but smile at her. If she was right…then she probably had made the right decision. But he wasn't about to let her know that.

Hank leaned her carefully against the wall behind where she sat and went to put her blood samples in the spinners and added dyes. "Have you ever had an EKG?" he called over his shoulder.

"No. Am I going to now?"

"If you don't mind. I think it might help." Hank held out some sticky tabs with metal bits on them. "I'll have to place these on your...chest." He stumbled over the word, blushing a little. "Again, if you do not mind. I can get Jean or-"

But she was laughing quietly at him. "It's fine! I trust you."

Hank finished placing the blood samples and trying to shake off the strange feeling he had. He was a doctor! He had placed EKG tabs on women before without batting an eye. And here he was acting like some fifteen-year-old who had never seen a woman's chest before, blushing all over the place and tripping over himself!

Hank shook his head at himself and turned to face Izabelle. It was all he could to restrain himself from staring open-mouthed. She was calmly unbuttoning her blouse less than a foot away from him. He tried very hard to act the part of the gentleman, but she was perfectly endowed and _right in front of him_.

Izabelle looked up and saw him turning purple. She stared in confusion before realizing what was perplexing him. Laughter exploded from her.

Now Hank was embarrassed and confused. Izabelle tried to collect herself recognizing his growing frustration with her mirth.

"I [giggle] I have [giggle]" She collected herself in a deep breath. Some hair had become displaced and hung in a loose curl in her face. "I have tank top on under this. I thought it would be easier if I moved my blouse. I'm so sorry! I should have said something before..."

Now it was Hank's turn to laugh. That certainly explained her behavior. But beneath the relief there was something else, a prickly uncomfortable feeling.

They both collected themselves back into their professional fronts and he, still blushing furiously, placed the EKG tabs on her chest.

Izabelle took the time to examine him while he was in such close proximity. She loved his glasses; the classic pince nez was very attractive and seemed to latch on to the deep humanity within the outer form. And despite the sharp and fierce claws and huge hands, he had a very gentle touch.

She screamed at herself to cut it out before she "went there" in her brain. _You're not 15 anymore_ she scolded herself _You have responsibilities, like not getting involved._

Hank was relieved when the whole thing was done. He feared his fur would be permanently purple.

Izabelle's EKG was normal and the blood samples would not be done until the next day so he respectfully looked away as she rebuttoned her blouse.

A small hand wrapped around his forearm and she turned him back to her. Her huge round eyes were smiling up at him "Thank you."

"I can't imagine what for. I've embarrassed myself half to death."

"For helping me with all of this: past, present, and future." She gave him a wave and headed upstairs on her own.

As soon as she was gone, Hank McCoy – Hank the always in control and always refined – began knocking his head against a wall.


	2. Chapter 2: Results

**Chapter 2: Results**

Izabelle woke late and did not know how to even get to breakfast, so eventually she gave up and ate an apple she had brought with her. This mansion was a serious problem for the directionally challenged like her.

She finished the apple and tried to think of what to do. It was the weekend so she had no classes. But she hadn't heard the result of her tests. And she was sure she could find her way back down to Hank's lab.

When she finally found her way down, she could hear soft music resonating down the hall. Not wanting to disturb him, she tiptoed in.

Hank had become used to working alone and people rarely came to see him in his lab. Being a mutant with a regressive mutation, when he was sure others weren't around shirtless was the preferred mode of dress.

So he was intensely surprised to turn around at ten in the morning and see an equally surprised Izabelle staring at him.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted. She was at a total loss of what to do. He wasn't _naked_ so it wasn't shameful or anything. Honestly, he was enjoyable to look at, all muscles and strong lines. She spun around, shutting off her thoughts.

Hank grabbed at his shirt and buttoned it up quickly. He coughed and Izabelle turned around. Her face contorted and she tried to hide a laugh in a cough but it turned into a giggle.

Hank looked down to see that he had misbuttoned his shirt so one side was way up and the other side was way down.

"Here. Let me make it up to you." Deftly, Izabelle adjusted the buttons. Her hands were tiny and delicate.

" I apologize." Hank pushed his hair back on his head. "I didn't hear you come down."

"I didn't want to disturb you." She was grinning up at him. "It seems like every time we meet, we are working at cross-purposes."

Hank smiled, the situation becoming one of levity. "You are conspiring against me. I am normally quite collected."

"I am doing no such thing! And I doubt you would need any help!" They both laughed. "This was the only place I can remember how to get to."

"I can only imagine why." Hank's eyes sparkled and she grinned back.

"There was a reason I came, and it was not to see you without a shirt."

"And here I thought that was the only reason."

Now it was Izabelle's turn to blush. This surprised Hank and he told himself not to joke about this if it made her uncomfortable; of course he was misreading the signals, assuming no one would take an interest in him.

"My test results."

"Ahh yes! I suspected your mutation to be some sort of chemical or pheromone when you explained it. Do people everywhere forget you when you have a lapse? Could someone call you on the phone and remember you?"

Izabelle thought. This had not crossed her mind, the difference between psychological and chemical mutation. "No. But that depended on the...potency of the breakdown."

Hank's face fell. "And there go the easy options."

"And those were?"

"Chemical treatment alone. There are still things we can try in that vein that should be able to help calm or reduce total breakdowns. Glutamic acid, Galantamine, acetylcholine, et cetera. But it does complicate things."

"How so?"

"Well, when the mind is involved it can put up resistances to outside help."

Izabelle could not help but hang her head. There would never be good news for her when it came to this curse. She would be forgotten forever.

Hank's hand cupped her chin and she found herself looking into his blue eyes. "We _will_ find something to help."

She nodded weakly and watched Hank stand.

"I do have a questionnaire for you. Just to get an idea of your medical history and such. It helps to know."

Izabelle smiled a little and took a seat looking up at him. She crossed her ankles under her and placed her hands in her lap, fiddling with her sea green skirt.

"Full name?" Hank asked, looking over his glasses at her.

"Izabelle Mia Rowan."

"Age?"

She lifted her eyebrows. Hank began to apologize, but he noticed her giggling at him and stopped.

"Thirty."

"What?" Hank was convinced he had heard her wrong.

"Thirty." She smirked at him. Izabelle knew she had not aged as much as would be expected, especially with the stress her mutation put on her. She didn't know why but she did not look her age. Not since she had mutated.

Hank watched Izabelle's face transition from amused to upset. "Izabelle?"

"I really am thirty, Hank. Why don't I look my age?"

Her voice was so pitiful and alarmed that he instantly believed her. He wrote furiously on his pages and then pulled a chair up next to her. "I don't know. But that is something to look at. It could help."

He looked at his next question. "Married?"

She scoffed. "I meant it when I told you I can't. Even if I could I wouldn't."

"Why not?" Hank couldn't imagine having someone willing to marry him and saying no.

"Everyone forgets. And when they realize that it is my fault…" She bit at her nails viciously. Hank watched her sympathetically.

"How did you first realize you were a mutant?"

She took a deep breath, her short hair falling into her face. She told him in one breath.

"My parents started forgetting me in high school. We had just moved and thought it could be the stress. It always happened when I myself was stressed or upset. I would tell them who I was and they would half remember me. It would get so bad that we worried about mental health problems. But as I got more friends and they forgot me as well…we realized there was in fact something wrong with _me_."

Hank could see her wrapping and unwrapping her skirt around her fingers and hand, fighting to keep her nails away from her teeth.

She continued in another breath: "Eventually, I made it easier on everyone. I left and … _helped_ them forget me. I don't think that is what they would have wanted, but…"

Hank did not know what to say. He silently crossed the family section off of his list. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. There was really nothing to say.

"This can wait…"

"No. This needs to happen."

A plan quickly formed in Hank's mind; necessary or not this really could wait and there was no need to wallow in bad memories. It was only her second day here.

"Hobbies?" He looked serious and stared at his list determinedly. Izabelle gave him a strange look before she seemed to catch on. Her secretive smile spread across her face.

"Photography. Reading, Poker."

Hank laughed. "That was not what I expected! Are you good?"

"Very. I have a killer poker face."

"Music of preference?"

"Jazz. Pop. Anything not rock."

"How can you not like rock?" Hank was incredulous and amused.

"It's too much!" She waved her hands around, trying to illustrate her point. "Take the Beatles –"

"You don't like the Beatles?"

Izabelle laughed loudly at his shock. "I don't."

"Minus five!"

"What?" Izabelle's eyes glowed. "This is a questionnaire about my _health_!"

"Well now it has point values."

"Well, what is your favorite music, _sir_?" Izabelle leaned back, crossing her arms and looking amused.

"Classical, I suppose. I know. You would never guess."

Izabelle pursed her mouth looking disappointed. "Well, I can't fault you for that. I suppose I will have to wait."

"You may be waiting a long time." But Hank's eyes and voice betrayed the humor he felt. She was surprising to talk to but was also easily surprised. And she laughed often.

"Knock knock!" A voice Izabelle did not recognize called down the hall. Instinctively, the pair moved apart; they had ended up sitting rather close together through the course of the conversation.

A tall man strolled through the main entrance and waved at Hank. Izabelle recognized him as faculty but not beyond that.

"Training today right? You coming?"

Hank got up quickly, shuffling his papers into order and stacking them on his desk. "I forgot! Yes, I'll be there."

The man now trained his gaze on Izabelle. "You're the new lady. Anabelle?"

"Izabelle."

"Very sorry! I'm Bobby Drake." He held a hand out to her and she quickly stood to take it, clearing her skirt self-consciously. An impish grin spread across his face and he pulled her closer to whisper to her. "Hank told me about you; said you had an interesting first acquaintance."

Izabelle grinned from ear to ear. Obviously, the comment was not intended to be crude or embarrassing; he wanted to let her know so she could give Hank flack about it. "Indeed we did. It must have made an impression on him."

Now Bobby's grin carried other weight that made Izabelle's stomach flip. "Indeed it did."

"You forget I do have excellent hearing," Hank called back to them. "So while I may not know what you are talking about, I do not like the idea of my friends conspiring against me while I'm in the room."

"You might have more friends to conspire against you if you were on time." Hank jokingly swung at Bobby but he ducked away.

"Come with us!" Bobby stated to Izabelle. "There's no need to stay in this dungeon just because he does and you can see a training session."

"Alright." Izabelle would have rather hiden down here but she did realize that she would not meet anyone by saying no to invitations.

Bobby and Hank chatted as they walked to the other end of the basement, Hank insisting on carrying Izabelle's bag. They showed her to the control room and left to get ready themselves. The Professor was in the control room and introduced her to Forge (who was running the session) and made room for her to watch by the huge glass panels.

"These are our oldest and best students. Many of the students hope to join their ranks someday."

Izabelle nodded kindly, smiling. She knew all about the X-men and did admire them, but she had no desire to join them. She was not tough and lost control of her powers when she was upset.

A small knot of people wandered out into the empty metal room and Izabelle noted Bobby point her out in the control room.

* * *

Hank knew he would have it coming to him when he met up with the X-Men. There was no privacy here and any new person was immediately scoped out for relationships.

"Surprised _you're_ late, Hank," Scott said good-naturedly, not realizing he had just opened the conversation to Bobby's teasing.

"And would you know _why_ he's late," Bobby smirked, changing.

"No. But we'd be interested in findin' out," Logan poked his head around his locker. He wasn't interested in most people's private lives, but Hank was different. Not since Trish dumped him had Hank had a private life.

"He was with the new girl. They've spent _quite a lot_ of time together in the past 24 hours."

Hank rolled his eyes and changed quickly to get out of there.

"She's pretty cute, Hank." Scott was grinning and leaning on a wall. "She looks a bit young for you though."

"She's thirty; it has to do with her mutation." Hank hurried out of the room, into the Danger Room. When he burst into the Danger Room he realized that this meant she would now see him in what was essentially underwear. He blushed a bit.

"And now she's here to watch him in training," Bobby teased, having followed him.

"At your invitation!"

Bobby backed off; Hank wasn't angry...yet.

"Who's watching?" Kitty jogged up, grinning.

"Izabelle." And Bobby pointed to the control room.

* * *

Izabelle moved back from the glass, hoping to make herself harder to see. Forge announced what their training objective would be (disarm the 'bots) and the room below began to whir and spin into action.

Izabelle forgot her reluctance to be seen and pressed against the window, trying to see everything going on below her. She had never seen anything like it; suddenly, as real as life she could see gigantic robots. She recognized them as Sentinels. The X-men flew into action. They were all impressive in action but she trained her attention on Hank.

It made her smirk to see that his uniform was pretty scarce. It also made her head spin to see him in this setting. He seemed to flip from calm and professorial to a figure of speed and wrath. He was sharp and deliberate in his actions, focusing mostly on helping others on the team. Izabelle quickly recognized he could be a front-runner on the team if he decided to.

It was also interesting to see the mutations of others on the X-Men. There was another blue mutant who disappeared and reappeared at will. The guy with glasses shot lasers out of his eyes. Jean apparently could fly. A girl not much older than herself dove through machines and anything in her way. And a man who looked even older than Hank held blades between his fingers, seemingly coming out of his arms.

Izabelle realized the Professor was watching her and smiling. Izabelle smiled back. "They're very impressive."

"They are the main line of defense at the school."

The simulation ran down and the X-men began to leave the large room the way they had come in. Hank glanced up over his shoulder. Then, to Izabelle's delight, he began to throw himself into flips and leaps through the grid work of the room. Izabelle beamed at him and someone called to him. Distracted, Hank missed his next handhold and landed on his stomach on the bar below him. A few more impacts and he was on his back.

Izabelle gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. He had fallen from a good way up. But she could hear Xavier laughing behind her.

"He'll be fine. Maybe a bruised ego at worst."

Izabelle laughed and Charles placed his fingertips together as he did before he spoke. "I know we agreed training would not suit you, but if you would like to contribute in a more indirect way, it would be appreciated. It would only be occasionally."

"I would be glad to," she chimed, glad to be of use.

Izabelle waited in the Control Room hoping someone would come for her. Sure enough, Hank sheepishly poked his head into the Control Room. Hank again insisted on carrying her bag and she gave up and let him.

"What did you think?"

"It was very interesting. I can't say I have any desire to be involved - my powers aren't of that variety - but I loved being able to watch. The Professor has asked me to help but I'm not sure how yet."

"I believe everyone should be involved in the Danger Room at some point or another while they are here. It is an amazing room."

"Indeed! Where else could you safely fall on your rear?"

Hank groaned, laughing. "That did hurt by the way."

"That's what you get for showing off!"

"And you wouldn't think I was showing off for _you_ now would you?" His eyes held sly amusement, but not condescension. He was teasing her.

"Hardly," she returned, lightly crossing her arms. "But you must know that you have lost five points for bad form. Now we are even."

Hank opened his mouth to retort but saw Jean heading for them. She reached the couple and smiled.

"If you're ready we can begin some practice with memory, Izabelle."

"That would be great."

Izabelle slowly took her bag back from Hank, wanting to say some parting thing but not with Jean there.

Hank winked at her. "I'll save my witty remarks for tomorrow."

"See you!" she piped after him.

_"I am in a world of hurt,"_ she thought to herself, _"You cannot do this and you know that."_

Jean was trying hard not to listen in to her thoughts but she was broadcasting loudly. She needed to teach Izabelle how to block and tone down thoughts. But moreover she wondered why Izabelle felt she could not get involved with Hank. They very clearly had some sort of compatibility and even if nothing worked out between them there was no reason to think it couldn't. It was probably because of her mutation. Jean hoped quietly that there was some way to help her; even if Izabelle left the mansion and never married a single soul, she deserved the option of a relationship.

"Ready, Izabelle?"

"Yeah," her voice was far away. "Let's go."

* * *

_Whew! Sorry that took so long in coming! I literally wrote this chapter three times before I liked it even a little!_

_So let me know what you think! (Please!)_


	3. Chapter 3: Delusions

**Chapter 3: Delusions **

The next day broke sweltering and bright. Summer was striking with a vengeance. Izabelle woke and was immediately grateful for her short hair that kept off of her neck and shoulders.

Jean had shown her how to get from her room to different places in the mansion the day before and so she was able to successfully get down to Saturday brunch on her own. She thought momentarily about bothering Hank anyway but she did not want to seem clingy or take up all of his time.

People came and went and since she still did not really know anyone she did not approach or move.

But a small knot did approach her. After introducing themselves as Magma, Sunspot, and Boom-Boom they asked about her and what had brought her to the mansion. The group chatted in the air conditioned dining room for a while before Boom-Boom told her that they were going out to the pool for a swim and Izabelle was more than welcome.

Again Izabelle did not want to but did not want to say no either. "I'll grab my camera and change."

"You take pictures?" Magma asked, her curiosity piqued.

"When I can. I'm not the world's best but I enjoy it."

The group parted ways and Izabelle hurried to her room and back out of the building to the pool. It was blindingly bright outside and she wished she had brought her sunglasses.

The pool at the Institute was a very interesting sight, especially to her. There were mutants like herself who just looked normal and did not really use their mutations often. Then there were others like Hank who stood out regardless of what they were doing. Then there were still others who used their powers frequently, like Bobby who was currently creating icebergs in the pool.

She began kneeling at different intervals around the pool and snapping pictures. This turned out to be a better way to meet people than she had expected because as people noticed her taking pictures they introduced themselves or showed off powers for her. She found that one man could replicate himself enough times to fill the pool at least and Sunspot was infinitely powerful as long as there was sun.

Most friendly of her new acquaintances was a man her age named Sam who had a heavy Southern accent. She got a few fantastic shots of him rocketing into the pool from a great distance away.

After that he had hauled himself out of the pool to sit by her on the side.

"What d'ya call yerself?"

Izabelle was confused. She had told him her name. Slowly it dawned on her that he was asking her "mutant name."

"I've never given it much thought honestly." She tilted her head and squinted since she had to face into the sun to look at him.

Sam thought absently that she looked very cute like that. "If you had to pick a name right now what would it be?"

She heard body speaking without her and realized the perfection as she said it: "Amnesia."

"That's a good one!" Someone persistently called to Sam over and over so, apologizing, he went to them and Izabelle returned to taking pictures. She amped up the color in her photos and increased the shutter speed. There was a vibrancy here that she wanted to capture.

Magma caught her eye and waved her over to where there were some beach chairs.

"You're not swimming," Izabelle observed sitting and smiling.

"Water's not really my thing." Magma laughed. "How are the pictures?"

Izabelle moved over and began to flip through the better ones, showing them to Magma. Izabelle didn't notice that she herself was being watched.

* * *

Hank had just been strolling around the building. He had stopped to smile down at the people who were busy swimming. And then he had noticed her. He had only intended to glance but now he found himself standing in the open window and...glancing a bit longer.

Izabelle was fair skinned and had a good figure, though he hadn't noticed that before. And...other nice features...that may or may not have been more noticeable in a halter swimsuit. Her short hair was curly today from the humidity and he could see her laughing with Amara. He appreciated how easily she laughed. He felt at ease around her. She was attentive when he talked to her and he could feel he had her complete attention when they were together. A smile flickered across his lips.

Floating around in his own thoughts, Beast hadn't noticed when Bobby had pointed him out to Izabelle.

* * *

"Hey, Izabelle! It's Hank!" Bobby was grinning mischievously and pointing up at the building.

Without hesitation she grabbed her camera, angled it at where Bobby was pointing, and after seeing blue she snapped a picture.

Hank noticed he had been found out and waved bashfully, causing her to snap another picture. She motioned for him to come down. Hank shook his head vigorously. Her eyebrows jumped up and she motioned more insistently. He laughed, the only sound in the empty hall, and shook his head again.

Magma jumped up and spoke quickly to Cannonball, pointing up at Hank. The next thing Hank saw was Sam shooting up at him, bringing a cyclone of pool water with him. Sam whipped away at the last minute, dodging the building but slamming Hank with tons of water. He stood frozen to where he was, surprised and dripping.

Hank could hear Izabelle's laughter from where he was and could see her taking picture after picture.

He was faced with a challenge and decided to meet it.

Izabelle gasped as Hank dove from the second story window into the deep end of the pool. The X-Men among them cheered. Someone suggested a game of volleyball and a net was strung up.

Izabelle and Magma were out of breath with laughter as they flipped through the pictures of Hank being slammed with water. A shadow fell across them and some water dripped on Izabelle's arm and leg. She was giggling and it only increased as she saw a mock-stern Hank looking down at her.

"I think you ought to put that camera away. You're going to be playing volleyball."

"Will I?" But she handed the camera to Magma without protest.

"It's only fair."

She had been working on creeping away from him and now took off down the side of the pool. There was no way she stood a chance and she knew it but it was the effort that mattered.

Ten seconds later she was caught and Hank lifted her over his head to toss her into the pool. He didn't count on Izabelle wrapping her leg around his arm at the last minute. The force of his own toss was what brought him crashing into the water after her.

They surfaced to loud laughter and teams being decided for volleyball.

Hank swam over to her and helped her find her feet since she was short and currently on the deeper end of the pool. Their eyes met and Izabelle's heart skipped. His white button down was transparent and sucked to his body, and he was grinning at her. He supported her around the waist and she held his shoulders, muscled and impressive.

But before either could speak they were told they had to play on opposite teams. The game was competitive and made all the more interesting when players decided to use powers. Izabelle was disappointed to see Hank leave the game early, though she supposed swimming fully clothed would get old.

It was only after changing and showering that Izabelle noticed the sunburn. The print of her swimsuit was outlined in livid red on her body. It was warm to the touch. She had put on sunscreen but hadn't counted on the water reflecting on her back and shoulders for the whole volleyball game.

Gingerly, she pulled on a strapless top so as to not cover the burn and headed for the basement. If anyone would have aloe it would be Hank.

* * *

"Someone is here!" Izabelle shouted as she walked briskly down the hall to the med ward. It was a way of teasing him as well as a way to avoid more awkwardness.

But when she entered the room he wasn't there. She looked around and could not see him anywhere. It was more disappointing than she would have expected. She could see the aloe in a shelf but...

"Raaarrrr!"

She screamed and tripped, falling on her back.

Hank, who had sunk up behind her, burst out laughing and she stared in disbelief before she too laughed along.

"I didn't see or hear you!"

"I can be very sneaky when I need to."

He helped her up and she cringed. It felt as if the skin on her back was shrinking.

"Are you alright?"

"I sunburned my back. I came down looking for aloe." She turned so that Hank could see the burn. She heard a low whistle and could feel his hand hovering over her shoulder.

"You're radiant." He winked at her and she couldn't help but smile shyly. Of course he was just playing on words, but still...

He pulled the bottle off of the shelf and handed it to her.

She poured a good amount into her hand and rubbed it into her shoulders and back. She could reach almost everywhere on her back except dead between the shoulder blades.

"Here." Hank took the bottle from her and gently applied aloe in the unreachable spot on her back. It again surprised her how gentle he could be with such big hands and claws.

"I was looking back over the results I got from your testing. There are several chemical options we can try, but one stands out particularly. It probably won't offer any full cure but it could help."

Izabelle felt her stomach flip. After all these years maybe something really could be done.

"When can we begin?"

"Tomorrow if you like. I can have the necessary things ready by late morning."

Izabelle wanted to jump up and down. And Hank could see it in her bright dancing eyes.

They agreed on a time and she headed quickly back upstairs.

In her own room she glowed as she plugged her camera into her laptop. The fact that many of the pictures had turned out clear and bright were icing on the cake of her day. She now had several friends and tomorrow Hank would start trying to find a way to help her. And then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to banish every desire to be with someone.

She grinned as she clicked through the pictures remembering and admiring. But one picture brought her to a dead halt.

It was the picture she had taken blindly of Hank when Bobby had pointed him out to her. Hank had one arm up on the windowsill and his forehead rested on the back of his forearm. He looked very dashing. But the thing that made her freeze with a terrible mix of delight and worry-fueled-sickness was his face. His face wore a soft expression of someone admiring something; a calm, pleased expression with a faint smile. And he was looking dead into the camera. There was no one else he could have been looking at. That gaze had been set on her.

There was a knock on her door and she closed the program. Roberto invited her to watch soccer with some others and she joined. But the rest of the night she was distracted, that image floating in her mind.

* * *

Hank tapped the needle, testing it. Izabelle was sitting in front of him, her left arm with a band on it and the vein clearly standing out in the crook of her elbow.

He stopped what he was doing. Izabelle's muscles were clenched so tight she was shaking. She had passed out once on him and he was more worried now that she was so tense. Gently he put the syringe down.

"No matter what, we have other options. I will keep looking until we find something."

She visibly relaxed a little and he gently, remembering the sunburn, squeezed her shoulder. Izabelle appreciated the use of "we"; not even in a romantic sense but because it included her in all of this. She was not just a test subject for him to work on; they were somehow together in this.

Hank gently slipped the needle into her vein. She could feel the cold liquid under her skin.

"It will take at least an hour to have any effect at all, regardless of what kind. If you give me somewhere to look for you I will check up on you later."

"The front lawn. Tabitha and Amara are training out there and I'll be watching them."

Hank removed the band and wrapped her arm with gauze. "Till then."

* * *

Izabelle noticed in half an hour that something was happening but she did not say anything – as she would later say over and over – because she thought maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe the lawn was now supposed to be orange. She didn't know. She did know everyone looked more menacing like this. She wondered why she hadn't noticed earlier that there were huge dark holes in people's faces and not eyes.

Only in this hallucination controlled state could something like this be observed with the knowledge but no feeling of terror.

For some reason the ground wouldn't stay still either. She decided to sit as still as she could on the lawn. Training was beginning and she had a vague notion that she should stay out of the way.

Within fifteen minutes she had completely forgotten about the training, finding a spot of dirt on her arm that would not come off. She scratched hard until it hurt; she could still see it there but decided to give up. Izabelle looked up to see tiny people fighting out on the field in front of her.

"What are you doing out there, teeny tiny people?" she mused to herself, standing and wobbling out to the field.

* * *

Hank decided to cross check the chemicals he had given Izabelle, just in case. There was still a quarter of an hour before he needed to actually go find her. He had checked for side effects but you could always be more thorough. The unfortunate answer greeted him in the very end of an article he was scanning.

Scanning as fast as his senses could, he read that the very chemical compound he had just given Izabelle had been found to cause very rare hallucinations in people with overly high levels of free radicals. Swearing loudly he tore open a drawer and read her blood work again. Swearing again at what he found he quickly grabbed a sedation pen and flew out the door and up the stairs on all fours.

* * *

Izabelle had worked her way out to the middle of the training field without anyone noticing her so far. The people still looked tiny and she could not figure out why.

"Logan, look!" Sam grabbed him and spun him to face Izabelle. "She looks possessed by the devil!"

And so she did. She was jerking and halting and her head hung low on her neck. There was a deep scratch on her arm and it was bleeding. Logan instantly called a standstill to the session and started after her.

"I'll get 'er!"

Before Logan could object, Sam was off like a rocket.

Izabelle saw him coming and smirked. "Stupid tiny man."

A hand went up toward him and Sam's mind went blank. He was headed straight at her and could not figure out why. She must then be a threat.

Izabelle was unmoving and Logan was shouting at Sam to not hit her, but it was clear that in a matter of moments she would be seriously injured, if not destroyed.

In a blur of blue, something threw itself around Izabelle, wrapping her in a tight ball. In the next moment, Sam impacted, throwing all three into the air and back down. The force of the collision brought Sam's memory back to him, freezing his blood when he realized what he had done. Then all lay still.

Mutants came running from all sides. Hank lay a yard away from Izabelle who lay prone in the grass. It killed his right side to move at all but he dashed to her. Flipping her over, he received a powerful kick in the side. There was a crack and he growled loudly in pain.

Now the terror of her delusions was sinking in. This huge creature had attacked her and now wished to finish her off. His black hole eyes scared Izabelle so much she could not scream.

Hank was trying as best as he could to pin her down and fend off her blows but was not succeeding because of his aching side. Sam pulled himself up off of the grass and, throwing himself on top of her, used his knees to pin her legs and his hands to pin down her arms. With Sam half lying on top of her, Hank was finally able to administer the sedative. She relaxed slowly, and finally slipped into a deep sleep lying spreadeagled on the grass.

Logan stared at Hank and Sam and Izabelle as he reached them. "What the hell just happened?"

"The drug I gave her... to dampen her powers..." he was out of breath and it hurt to breathe, "caused hallucinations..."

"You didn't know this?"

Hank shook his head, feeling even worse. He couldn't have known but he felt he should have. He pulled himself to his feet and tried to lift Izabelle but could not. He grabbed at his side, inhaling deeply.

"You okay?"

"I think I broke a rib. I'll look at it later. Could you...?"

Logan dismissed training for the day and cautiously lifted Izabelle off of the lawn and carried her into the building.

* * *

After nursing Izabelle and Sam, who had a goose-egg on his forehead, Hank finally was able to x-ray his own midsection. As he thought, he had cracked not only one rib but two. Tenderly he pulled his shirt back on and shook his head; there was nothing to do but let them heal. Sounds of someone waking brought him quickly to Izabelle's side.

She looked groggily around and then started at the sight of Hank.

He hushed her. "You are safe."

She nodded, and sat up. Her arm was bandaged and she tried to remember what had happened. Hank noticed and tried to explain.

"The chemical had an adverse reaction. You were hallucinating, I think. Sam went to get you, but -"

"I wiped his memory. Then you were there." Her face cleared a little but she felt cloudy and miserable. "I kicked you. Sam had to hold me down. Everything was orange and..."

Izabelle had no desire to relive the terrible visions. But she remembered kicking Hank _really_ hard. She grabbed at his shirt and yanked it up on his side. Hank was taken aback but moved to late to hide the huge black bruise. She let his shirt drop and turned away from him toward the wall. Guilt swelled up in her along with fear and anger.

"Izabelle...you weren't yourself."

She did not move so he gently lifted her and sat her facing him. He wished she would express her emotions so he would know what to do or say. She looked like she might speak so he waited.

"That was the worst hour of my _life_." She bit at her nails. "What if there isn't a way of helping me? What if everything will have this reaction? Or something worse?"

Izabelle got up and walked away quickly, pushing Hank aside. She felt massively depressed and did not want to speak to anyone.

Hank jumped up to pursue her but even as he was halfway to her he could not remember why he was going after her. He did not recognize her and he could already see a bandage on her arm. He must have had something to say to her, but had now forgotten. He stopped in the middle of the room, forgetting and trying to remember.

As she slipped through the halls, Izabelle also silently slipped from their minds.


	4. Chapter 4: Sudden Unseen Danger

**Chapter 4: Sudden Unseen Danger**

Izabelle wallowed in her room for the remainder of the day and not even Xavier could remember her, so deep was her temporary depression. It was a full twenty-four hours before even he would remember her at all.

Not sure what good it would do but intending to keep going with her commitments, Izabelle showed up and taught classes that had been set for her the week before. She came and went, like a vapor, totally unrecognized.

The next day, around noon, Xavier could feel some memory breaking through a fog. He pried at it and Izabelle appeared there. He was stunned; he was a very powerful mutant and she had totally disappeared from memory. He quickly set out to find her, but did not have to look long. She was teaching and he waited until her class had finished.

"Izabelle."

She almost shed a few tears in relief at hearing someone say her name. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

She shrugged, embarrassed. "Upset. You heard about…?" She held up her still bandaged arm.

"No… May I?"

Izabelle nodded and soon could feel Xavier watching the memories like a film. After a moment of silence he spoke.

"I can imagine that would be deeply upsetting. This I assume is the cause of the recent fade out?"

She nodded.

Students started filing in and the sight of them set an interesting question to the Professor's mind. "Do they remember what you taught them yesterday?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you ask a question about the _content_ you covered yesterday, do they remember the information?"

Izabelle's mouth fell opened a little in shock. "They do."

"But not you?"

"No. They think I'm a sub."

"That is most interesting. Well, I will leave you to your classes. I'd like to work with you later to try to temper the current fade out if you don't mind."

Izabelle agreed and began her next class.

* * *

After working with Xavier, and later Jean, once she remembered her, people around the mansion began to remember Izabelle. It was still a slow process but faster than it had been when she was on her own.

Surprisingly, the first non-telepath to remember her was Sam. And he remembered her all at once, not gradually like everyone else. So, remembering her powers and the resulting isolation it caused, he stayed close to her for the next few days.

At first Izabelle tried to ignore him but he was persistent and worked at her until she gave in and talked to him. In getting to know him, she found him sweet, open, and attentive. Cannonball was very grounded and balanced her current moodiness well. At one point early in the week of her fade out he decided to strand her on the roof until she smiled. She enjoyed him flying her around in this way, despite her last encounter with his mutation and when he discovered this he made a point of flying her around the grounds.

Within a few days Roberto, Tabitha, and Amara all remembered her as well. Sunspot's memory actually returned when he saw her struggling with a blackened piece of toast. He made an oath on the spot to teach her how to cook and Amara was delighted to join in.

The moment was darkened though. In the middle of the conversation Hank entered the kitchen. Sam watched a distracted expression take over her features. Hank nodded at the group, not paying any special attention to Izabelle, and left. The worst part of this for Izabelle was that Hank was the very last person in the mansion to remember her. She did not know if it was because he was the indirect cause of her fade out or if there was some other cause, but it tore her up that she saw him daily for nearly a week and he never once glanced at her.

She dismissed herself and took off toward her room.

"Bella!" Sam had given her the unasked for nickname and though it made her cringe she didn't correct him; he was just trying to be nice. She let him catch up to her but didn't stop moving. So he caught her by the shoulders and peered into her face.

"It's okay. He'll remember you eventually and then you can get back to testing. You have plenty of time and if anyone can find a cure for you it's Hank."

Izabelle opened her mouth but the words did not come. Why did it bother her? Hank was her doctor and at this point nothing more. So she liked him? He had been instructed to care for her health. That did not mean that he held any special interest in her. He was her doctor and nothing more.

Sam amiably put an arm around her and brought her back to her waiting friends.

* * *

So she stopped looking for Hank, allowing her heart to freeze over as she had many times before. And the week passed with her distracting herself in activities from the biting feeling of disappointment.

But Friday ended classes and she stepped out of her room to slam into someone. Looking up she saw blue fur. And a familiar smile.

"It has been a while, Izabelle."

"So it has, Hank." Hearing him say her name was like music. "How are your ribs?"

"Nearly healed."

"How is that possible?"

"Advanced healing. It came with the blue fur." He reached for her bag as he had before but she caught herself and sidestepped him heading down the hall. She was too easily won back and it would only be worse the next time if she gave in now.

"Izabelle?" Hank's voice was curious and a little worried.

"Yes?"

"I just…wanted to make sure everything was alright. With you after the…"

"Fade out. Well, I could be better but that is generally how these things go isn't it?"

She turned again to walk away and Hank didn't need his keen senses to know she was upset and trying to hide it from him. But why? She had been so open with him before.

"Xavier told me you realized something about your students. Something involving your powers? He said you could explain it best."

She faced him again, looking tired. After a silence, she nodded.

"Mind telling me about it?"

"Could we go somewhere else?"

"It's a nice day. Let's not be cooped up indoors." He again reached for her bag and this time she awkwardly let him take it from her. He noted that she was careful to avoid touching him. It hurt him that she had grown cold to him and he promised himself that he would learn the cause of this behavior.

Neither spoke till they reached a bench nestled in some tulips and Hank set her bag down between them. Awkwardly and without introduction Izabelle told him of the discovery Xavier had come upon and that she had confirmed through the week.

"So they remember everything you've taught them? Even after a week?"

"Yes."

"But not you?"

"Not until yesterday. All of them remembered I was their teacher by then."

"All?"

"Yes."

A prick of guilt struck Hank. He hadn't even remembered her on waking today. He had actually run to her bedroom the second he did remember her. Realizing she must have a class he had dashed to the other wing where her class was.

Izabelle had stared mostly at her hands and the floor since they had arrived. Now Hank realized what it was. She knew he hadn't remembered her; all the people living in the mansion crossed paths hundreds of times a day and she would have noticed every single time he did not notice her, did not speak to her, and did not even look up from what he was doing. She had declared even at their first meeting that she did not have relationships. Now he realized that this was not limited to romance. For Izabelle, even a friendship could be a painful task.

Hazel eyes met blue.

"Izabelle, I am truly sorry. I wish very much that this was not your burden to carry. But since this cannot be changed, allow me to help you carry it. As a friend."

Izabelle could feel her heart warming. He was so _good_. "I would like very much to have a friend. To have you as my friend." It was awkward and halting but she meant every word.

He smiled widely at her. "Might I ask you an unrelated question?"

"Certainly. But it will cost you one point."

Hank laughed. "I suppose I can spare one. Where are you from? Your accent is distinctly not New England."

"I'm actually from Montana. I moved here for journalism years ago."

"Did you write?"

"Sometimes. Largely I did photojournalism."

"Any pet topics?"

"The mutant policies that were underway when I began were the reasons I moved here. MRD didn't exist then."

"That seems so long ago." Hank settled into the bench, thinking back. Izabelle watched him and smiled to herself. He was more crouching than sitting, a position in great contrast with his formal appearance and air.

"Indeed. I made life fairly difficult for them when I was able," Izabelle agreed, coolly.

"What do you mean?"

"It was not uncommon at the time for anti-mutant figureheads to be photographed in positions that threw doubts on their morality. And no one would remember a small photographer being there. So I 'delivered' the pictures and managed to slide by under the radar for quite some time. I did that until it caught up to me; then I backed out and hid for a while. And now I'm here."

"It must have been some time before it caught up to you."

"Well, they would put people to follow me and so on but the person would always wander away, unharmed but unable to remember who it was they were following. But when they began making loud accusations that I was a mutant myself, I knew it was time to go."

"Impressive. You didn't strike me as political."

She shrugged, smiling. "Looks are deceiving."

"_Sorry to interrupt."_ Xavier's voice sounded clearly in both of their minds. _"If I might steal Izabelle away, Jean is ready to train with her."_

Izabelle picked up her bag slowly and seemed ready to say something. Hank waited patiently.

"I like talking to you, Hank."

"We must continue the practice then. For I too, enjoy talking to you."

She smiled shyly. "See you 'round."

* * *

A week came and went and then another. Izabelle grew impatient as Hank took longer and longer in finding the next chemical to test on her. But he was nervous after the first horrible experience and also did not want to subject her to unnecessary disappointment.

The passing time was filled with classes, meetings with Jean and Xavier, lab work and research with Hank, and free moments with the New Mutants.

She was overjoyed to realize that when Hank had offered his friendship he had not done so lightly. She began to go to him first with any and everything: a funny story, a problem, an idea, or a fear. The time they spent together was no longer limited to the laboratory; they could be seen together as often as there was opportunity.

At long last Hank broached the topic of another chemical they could test. But it required drawing more blood. In the lab, it took some time for Hank to convince Izabelle to lie down on the gurney and a threat of tying her down before she complied.

Lying down gently, Izabelle made a face at him. "Bossy Dr…" She realized she didn't know his last name.

"McCoy."

"That," she laughed, "is a bad pun waiting to happen!"

"Oh really? I've never been told." But his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Might I ask you a question of a personal nature?"

"Of course."

"You said, quite a while ago, that your healing _came with_ the blue fur. Implying that neither had always been the case."

"You notice a lot." It was a non-judgmental observation. He deftly took blood from her and, watching her eyes flutter, dabbed at her face with a cold washcloth. Her eyes refocused and she picked up the conversation as if it had never been disrupted.

"How did that happen?"

"Unlike you, I was not worried about adverse effects of testing and pushing my mutations. I was once a normal, decently handsome man…"

Hank explained the long story of experiments, all the while adding this and that to various vials and spinners, and finally ended the narrative with him trapped in the form he now held.

"Does this form feel like you? Or does it feel like it is you in some other body?" Izabelle had sat up on the gurney, her knees drawn under her chin.

"I suppose it feels like me now. There are still moments. More often, it's hard to remember I've ever been anything else."

"Show me."

Hank looked surprised and confused. He washed his hands meticulously and turned a questioning look on her. "Show you what?"

"Your 'old self.' Surely you have a picture somewhere."

He smirked at her. "Hoping to check out my better self?" But he left and returned with a picture.

She looked at it for a while. He was surprised by how seriously she seemed to study it. A sense of anticipation grew in him, waiting for some reaction. Finally she spoke.

"You _are_ your better self."

Hank was taken aback. Few people regarded the current form as better than human. She handed it back and smiled, an open and clear smile with no lie in it. He was disbelieving but did not question her. She would not have been able to explain either. His appearance fit him, as she knew him and understood him.

"Well…" he wasn't sure what to say or how to say it after that. "Tomorrow then?"

He helped the petite lady down from the gurney and she looked at him wide eyed.

"Have I offended you?"

He cleared his throat and began polishing his glasses. "Quite the opposite. You have said something few would, and I greatly appreciate that."

"It's the truth."

With a smile she left him. Hank watched her go, pondering what she had said. She did not reject his mutated form; she professed even to prefer it. The notion of a "them" began to take hold in his mind seriously for the very first time. He snapped off the lights in the lab and headed for his room.

* * *

It wasn't the heat that woke Izabelle at 3 am, hours after seeing Hank. It wasn't even the shouting. It was the shards of glass hitting her face and arms like hail.

She sat up quickly, gazing around, confused. It was impossible to grasp what was happening when jerked out of a deep and total sleep. Izabelle ran to the window and gasped aloud. At least two dozen men below were streaming across the yard and toward the building. The wall of the building was on fire, hence the explosion of hot glass.

Izabelle stepped back as quickly as she had ran to the window, shielding herself from the heat with an arm. She remembered someone showing her where the emergency escaped were and fled the room without thinking. She ran down the hall of the girl's dormitory and grabbed at the escape hatch built into a panel of the wall; it slid open compliantly. A shriek echoed down the hall and she stopped halfway through the passage, heart slamming against her breastbone. There were still girls in the building. She slammed the hatch shut and sped off down the hallway in the direction she had come. Not that she could help them much, but she had to at least try.

Luckily the attackers had not made it up this far in the building. Yet.

A few very young girls had decided to hide under a bed rather than make for the hatch down the hallway. Physically grabbing two and dragging one that she could not carry, Izabelle raced back to the escape panel. But heat emanated from the outer wall, making the handle of the hatch too hot to grasp. They would have to move to another panel.

Halfway down the hall to the boy's dorm, a head grew out of the floor. Izabelle shrieked before she recognized the X-Man.

"I didn't mean to scare you! Here!" Katherine Pryde took one of the girls from Izabelle and the group hurried down the hall.

The little girls took off down the passageway once the hatch opened without a command to do so and Kitty stepped half inside to follow them out.

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No."

"Come with us then and-" But her imperative was cut off. A device at her hip spoke with a crackle.

"Codename Beast has not been located. Repeat: Codename Beast has not been located."

Izabelle's stomach whirled. Beast was Hank. Hank had not been found. She knew without a doubt that if he were not outside he would be in the basement. Where the men would certainly go. Where he would be trapped.

Kitty could see the cogs turning as if there were thought bubbles over the other woman's head. "Izabelle, don't!"

But it was too late. Izabelle spun on one heel and fled down the hall. Another blast of glass, this time ice cold, knocked her off balance and she fell, shoulder first, into the opposite wall. She could see a mutant with white hair freezing out the fire on the walls but the sharp temperature change was blasting the glass out of the windows. Her face stung and she scrabbled back to her feet.

Somewhere in the back of her mind something was screaming that there was nothing she could do and no way that she could help. She couldn't even throw a punch. But something had taken over her senses and she ran on through the now empty building. She would find him if it was the last thing she ever did, as it well may be. She had to find him.

She was jumping down the main entryway steps when she was finally apprehended, but not by those attacking.

"Bella!" Sam was bare-chested and his goggles were pushed back on his forehead. "Get outta here! Have you lost yer mind?"

She tried to evade him but he encircled her with his arms and held tight.

"I have to find Hank! No one has seen him!"

"He will be fine! _You _need to get to safety! The MRD is here! They're on the lawn!"

"Let go of me!"

She struggled mightily but he was much stronger and bigger than her. An explosion rocked the mansion. It had dropped on the lawn mercifully, but the large chandelier directly above the struggling pair began to swing, then creak and groan. Both stopped, Cannonball still holding her very tightly to his chest. Izabelle realized his heart was pounding. There was a sound of snapping cords and the glass and metal fixture plummeted down at them.

Sam was forced to make a decision: to try to duck with her or to toss her as far from the quick approaching chandelier as he could. Izabelle felt him release and shove her and she skidded across the marble. Dust made it impossible to see, but even as she stood and looked back over her shoulder, she could make out Sam's stoic figure watching her go. She turned and fled down the stairs.

There was yelling from the lawn. Sam prayed silently that indeed she would find Hank; otherwise she could very well be lost. He snapped the goggles down over his eyes and rocketed out of the building.

* * *

The emergency lights lit the way down into the belly of the mansion. Izabelle had heard that silence was more disturbing than noise but had never believed it until now. It pressed in on her. She now realized what a mistake she had made. Hank could be anywhere in the mansion and she had wandered blindly into a cage.

She dashed around the lab and medical ward before realizing that he was not there and may never have been. She would go back to Sam. Hopefully he could still help her.

She was almost to the stairs when something caught her by the hair. She screamed as loudly as she could and her head was knocked against the wall in return. A man in military gear peered down at her.

Izabelle tried with all of her might to confuse him, but her fear won out and she was unable to harness her own powers. Her captor took her in a headlock and knocked her feet out from under her. With great despair she realized she was lost. A shout to the dark and another man was there as well. They began to bind her as she screamed wordlessly.

She kicked and flailed but two against one was no fight at all and after several blows to the face she was gagged and bound.

The last knot was tied and there was a tinkle of something breaking in the dark behind her. The men stopped. Turning her head, Izabelle could see another man of higher rank in the shadows. He was observing but taking no part in the action himself.

A huge creature hurdled down on the men binding her. Izabelle was again tossed down a hall, sliding away from the men. Now the hulking shape blocked them from her. She picked her head up and saw that it was Beast.

He plunged in with the men and an amazing hand to hand combat began. Beast snarled and wove, throwing punches and evading their weapons. Four more men came down the hall and even Izabelle knew this would be too much. If there was a way that she could possibly make up for her stupidity, that moment had come. From her position she held her hands up and concentrated. Soon the men halted and looked at Hank who had unsurprisingly emerged victorious. He stared then roared, a terrifying sound that almost threw Izabelle off of her focus.

From the shadows they were ordered to fall back and like pieces of night they took off. Focusing on the commander, Izabelle tried to erase his memory of them but strength gave up before she could. Hank gave chase but once it was clear they were going to leave he doubled back to where Izabelle lay.

She could feel him pick her up and bring her to a patch of hall that was clearly lit. Razor sharp claws sliced off her bindings and her limbs fell heavily to her sides. He immediately began to examie her numerous cuts and bruises quickly and without speaking to her. Not until he lifted her face to his to examine the large bruise on her forehead did she meet his eyes.

"That was a stupid thing you did, Miss Rowan."

She winced, not at the impromptu exam but at the distant formality he gave her. "I know."

"It is a rather worthless thing to know and yet act in ignorance."

Izabelle bristled. "It was not ignorant. You were missing. I knew you would be here. And I was right."

"So you came here for what?" Hank stood and looked down at her suddenly, scowling. "You cannot fight. You have no training. So of course you impulsively dash off to the very place a trap is most likely to be set! If not ignorant than impulsive, brash, and thoughtless!" His voice jumped to a shout at the end of this sentiment. This was not the sort of thing that angered Hank. But his own emotions fueled his irritation. Her screams had reached him on the other end of the basement where he had been making his way out of the building. From the moment he first heard them to the moment he pushed her away from the MRD his heart had pounded so hard it made him queasy. And now looking at her, bruised and cut with welts on her wrists and ankles from rope…a charge went off in him and she was the only one there to let it out on.

Izabelle jumped to her feet unsteadily. "Thoughtless? It would seem that I must have been, since I wasted all of my thoughts on you and your safety!"

She was shouting and furious now. She had been blown into a wall, glass had exploded onto her twice, been almost crushed by a chandelier, been knocked around, and almost abducted by MRD and now Hank was lecturing her!

But Hank's expression softened. "Why did you come here?"

"As I have said, I was worried for you and I hoped (stupidly, yes!) to help you or bring you aid somehow." She was still spitting mad and had not noticed Hank's calmer demeanor.

"And why not any other person in all of the mansion, Izabelle?"

His question almost made her knees buckle and the words came out of her before she could stop them: "Because you are the closest friend I have had in a very long time! If something were to happen to you…" She stopped suddenly, supporting herself against the wall.

Hank stared at her. He had not expected this. He went to save others; it was rare that anyone thought of saving him. And her sudden confession touched him. He knew she had enjoyed his company but she had never revealed to him how much it meant to her until now.

Without words, he wrapped first one arm then the other around the huddled Izabelle. His hand stroked her hair gently and she buried her face in his shoulder. He felt a shudder go through her small frame so he held her closer to him.

"Thank you, my friend." They pulled apart slowly. "Plus twenty points."

She laughed quietly.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and someone was calling for Hank. Soon Scott, Jean, and Sam were present. Sam looked haunted and let out an exclamation when he saw Izabelle. He rushed to her, looking as if he wanted to do or say something but could not find the right thing. She whispered an apology to him and he nodded, looking relieved.

"We saw they had gotten into the basement. Are you both alright?" Scott broke in.

"Izabelle suffered much more than myself. If you could get Angel here we can have her healed before tomorrow morning."

Scott spoke into a device and soon Bobby, Angel, and Kitty joined them, followed at a distance by Logan.

The man with wings, who Izabelle assumed was Angel, looked her up and down. "You took quite the beating, Miss Rowan. I'd be glad to help."

She nodded her gratitude and stood slightly behind Sam, who had not left her side. Hank had forgotten how shy she could be, especially around the "originals."

"What the hell do we think that was about?" Logan was blunt and to the point, ignoring Izabelle completely as she preferred.

"Do you think the MRD just wanted to send a message?" Jean asked, the question directed more at Scott than at the general group. But Scott shook his head.

"They aren't in a position to tangle with us unless there is something they are after."

"Well what could they want? They didn't take anything," countered Logan.

"They did try." Everyone looked at Hank who was looking at Izabelle in turn.

Izabelle understood quickly and shook her head wildly. "It's not me they wanted! They just wanted one of us. Anyone."

"And where do you get that idea from?" Logan's arms were crossed and Izabelle shrank visibly.

"It seemed obvious," Izabelle murmured, now feeling out of her depth.

"Yer gonna have to explain, Bella," Sam coaxed.

"They had me and would have taken me if Hank hadn't arrived. But even then, what's to stop them from sending more men down and overwhelming the two of us? Someone was watching; someone called the MRD off. And why only send two dozen men and set fire to the school, alerting everyone within that an attack was on?"

"They wanted to flush us out of the school!" Sam exclaimed.

"And capture only stragglers and the weak," Izabelle finished.

There was silence as everyone looked at her and she wished she could sink through the floor like Kitty.

"I think she's right," Logan said, at long last.

"Who was the person watching?" asked Jean.

"I don't know. I tried to wipe his memory with no success."

"This is very serious news," Scott observed. "Why would they only need one or two of us? Nothing good will come of this."

* * *

After some speculation, the X-men dispersed and Hank gently led Izabelle, for what seemed like the millionth time, to the med ward. It was explained to her that Warren's blood had healing that could actually be given to others by a blood transfusion. While her injuries were not life threatening, this would heal them in the course of a day. The blood was given to her and she thanked the man with wings dozens of times before he left.

Hank walked her back to her own room. Neither spoke until they reached her door.

"I'm sorry, Hank," Izabelle blurted out all at once. "I didn't mean for all of that to blow up the way it did!"

Hank smiled a bit at her and leaned against a wall. She had been honest with him; now it was his turn. "Truthfully, I wasn't angry. I was scared. Kitty announced on the com device that you had run off and not long after I could hear screaming. I knew it had to be you. I was afraid for you."

"Really?" Izabelle seemed flattered.

"Really."

The familiar smile greeted him and they said goodnight to each other.

They left on that positive note but both faced the darkness that had seeped into the mansion and remainders of the horrible event. Izabelle was afraid to even look at her reflection and see the marks of the terrible night on her own body. Hank paced around the chandelier, lodged in the floor, before going to bed himself. MRD had made a bold move against the X-Men and no one knew why.

This apparent lack of motivation for the attack was terrifying, because if they did not know the "why" there was no way to prepare or fight.

* * *

_Sorry this was so long in coming! Things have been super busy here! _

_I have been looking at the general stats for this story and have come to a decision: there are too many of you for this story to only have ONE comment! I greatly desire your feedback! :-)_

_So posting of new chapters will be postponed until I hear from some of you. :-)_

_And believe me there are good things coming! _


	5. Chapter 5: Something They Will Go After

**Chapter 5: Something They Will Go After, At All Costs**

"_Sir?" _

"_Speak." _

"_We cannot go after the school again, sir. They will be prepared for it the next time." _

"_Indeed." _

"_It will be much more work to find individual mutants. Our technology is just not there yet." _

"_We don't need to do that. We just need a new way into that school." _

"_We almost had one, sir. The female." _

_The man who had hidden in shadow rubbed his eyes. He knew he had been there but he could remember no details._

"_Refresh my memory, Harlson." _

_Harlson nodded curtly. "Our men had her down and bound. She was alone. She showed no obvious mutation and did little to resist. Another mutant interfered and our men suffered some mental effects during that time."_

"_Mental effects?"_

"_Symptoms like amnesia."_

_The man nodded. It was her fault he couldn't remember; that had to be her mutation._

"_We'll have to pass on her then. They'll be paying closer attention to her now that it was so close. They always do." _

"_So are we giving up on the school? I we can't get any of the weak ones…"_

"_No. We just need a new idea."_

* * *

Izabelle woke up absurdly late. The heat was overwhelming and her sheets stuck to her damp skin. She groaned aloud. The air conditioning must be down from the night before.

She rolled out of the bed and looked down at her bare legs as they hung over the bed. There were light scars where she had been scratched and scabs over the deeper cuts.

She remembered being given the blood and hurried to her bathroom. The harsh bluish lighting illuminated her from above the mirror. She looked as if she had been beaten up a week ago as opposed to the night before. Her eye had a greenish residual bruise around it and her neck had faint red dots on it from where the men had grabbed her by the neck. Her thigh had another greenish bruise from being tossed so much. On the positive side, she thought, my sunburns are nice tans.

She wanted to cover up the unsightly marks but she knew that it was far too hot for that sort of nonsense. After getting ready and showering in the coldest water she could bear she decided to see what Hank was up to. They probably would not do any testing in the immediate future but he might like some help.

Once she reached the main staircase she was greeted with a familiar and alarming sight. She obviously remembered the chandelier crash, but to see how big it was and the huge hole it had put in floor…It gave her shudders to think of it again. Various X-Men were there cleaning the thing up and hauling it out of the floor. When she reached the bottom step Sam caught her attention.

"You look better."

Izabelle tried to laugh. "I didn't actually see what I looked like so I will assume this is better."

"Much."

Sam swiftly hugged her and she smiled up at him. But his face was a mixture she could not read and she stopped smiling when she saw it.

"What, Sam?"

He sighed and pushed his goggles to his forehead. "Izabelle, you shouldn't 'a done that. Ah don't think even Hank would've wanted that."

"I know…"

"Then why?"

Izabelle traced a design in the dust on the floor. "I just…wanted him to be okay. And unless I saw that with my own eyes I would have had no peace. I know I can't help like you X-Men can but…I just felt I had to try."

"You've got t' promise me you won't do that again. They may be back after you. Let _me_ find Hank and _you_ get safe."

Izabelle nodded and hurried off, toward the basement and Hank.

Sam shook his head looking after her.

Izabelle was dying before she reached Hank's lab. It was a furnace. She knew basements were supposed to be cool and could not figure out what was going on. But arriving answered her question. Hank was shirtless and was busily draping cooling vests over the machinery, which was whirring away.

He saw her and started for his discarded shirt but even he could not bear to put it back on in this heat.

"You look much better, Miss Rowan." But this time when he said her name this way it was with a smile, not the severity of the night before.

"So I have been told." She smiled at him but could feel herself wilting. "It's boiling down here, Hank. What's going on?"

"The machines are rather powerful and let off a bit of heat. The air conditioning system was routed through them to cool them and now…" He made a sweeping gesture to finish the statement.

" Why not shut them down?"

"They're halfway through some other projects of mine. I'd have to start all over without knowing any results."

Izabelle took his arm gently and he saw the worry in her eyes. "What?"

"You need one of those vests yourself. You could get heatstroke. You shouldn't even be down here; you have fur, Hank."

"Oh I will be fine! I am after all a doctor. I can recognize the symptoms of heatstroke."

"You're also the most stubborn person I have ever met."

He laughed. "Speaking of being a doctor, let me have a look at that shiner you're still sporting."

She laughed as well and he gently poked around her face and peered into her eye.

"They hit you really hard."

"It did feel that way."

"I am deeply glad you are safe."

He squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.

"I've got to go upstairs. It's too hot here."

"Indeed it is."

"Come with me. Your machines work without you."

"Someone needs to make sure they don't overheat."

"I'll be back to check on you then."

"I'm always glad to see you."

Izabelle left and headed for the outdoors. Outside there might be a breeze.

True to her word Izabelle returned a few hours later.

Hank was leaning on his computer stand with his head in his hand. She had never seen him in any posture other than ramrod straight and it worried her.

"Hank?"

"Mmmm?" He tilted his head to look at her. If anything it was hotter than it had been though the machines seemed to be fine.

"Are you okay?"

"I have indeed felt better." He stood slowly and muttered to himself. "Holy Hannibal, Missouri."

She cracked a smile even if he was acting off. But the smile faded. His breathing was far too heavy for having only stood up.

She gently took his hand and placed her other on his neck. The fur had been damp with sweat when she had been there earlier and now it was crisp and dry. He wasn't sweating. She tried to look unbothered and rubbed her hand up and down his arm, feeling covertly for his pulse. It was pounding and rapid.

"Hank?" She tried to keep the worry out of her voice but she could see he detected it. "Hank, you're heat sick. I'm going to get some people to help you out alright? I need you to stay here and not move."

He only nodded and clutched the stand.

Izabelle was only half way down the hall when she heard a tremendous crash. She ran back as fast as she could and stifled a shriek. Hank was facedown on the floor, his nose squashed against the tiles. She rolled him over as best as she could. He mumbled something to her but closed his eyes again.

Izabelle was stuck. If she went for help he could get sicker; the people cleaning out the main hall had been done for a while and most of the school was outside. That left but one option.

Hank awoke in a tub of cool water, his head propped in an inflatable pillow. Slowly he remembered Izabelle coming back, and feeling really sick. But he didn't remember anything else. After a while he felt better and toweled off and dressed. There was a knock at his door.

The Professor entered his room, half hiding a smile. "Are we feeling better Hank?"

"I believe so, Charles. What happened?"

"You, my friend, had heat stroke and passed out."

"You cannot be serious."

"I am. Miss Rowan then dragged you down the hall and up the stairs and kept going until someone came along. She was pretty wiped out herself. You are quite a bit larger than her."

Hank's eyebrows shot up. She was quite small and he was impressed she could even move him.

"And I believe that she is here herself so I will leave her to better tell the story. Good to see you are recovering well!" Charles opened the door and Izabelle moved aside for him to pass. Hank motioned her into his room and she leaned uncertainly on a wall.

"Well…?"

He should have known this would be coming and he sighed exaggeratedly. "You were right. I am an idiot of the most impressive proportions."

"I'm just glad you are okay."

"I was told you-"

She interrupted him grinning. "Dragged your furry ass up two flights of stairs? Yes, I do remember that."

He laughed.

"I almost passed out as well. You, my friend, are no feather."

"Not everyone can be as delicate and petite as you, my dear."

Izabelle blushed a little and smiled at him. "You will be happy to know that your results have all come through and everything has been shut down for now. The air conditioning will be up by tomorrow as well. I'll let you rest though. Which you will do because I am always right." She tapped him gently on the nose for emphasis and turned to leave.

"I owe you, Izabellle."

Her expression became very serious and she fixed him in a long look. "You will never owe me anything, Hank McCoy."

With a short but sincere smile, she left.

* * *

"_Sir?"_

"_Harlson?"_

"_Sir, the most recent subject has also died."_

_The man sighed heavily. He combed his black-grey hair out of his eyes with his fingers. "They just don't have the endurance necessary. Train them longer before the conditioning."_

"_Sir. With all due respect, I believe that they simply are not strong enough. We need stronger mutants." _

"_How many have died?"_

"_Fourteen." _

"_Then we will have to abandon attempts on the Xavier School. The strongest there are far stronger than us as a unit. For now." _

"_But the strongest mutants we know of to date are at that school, sir."_

"_Then we will have to get one alone won't we?" There was a gleam in the man's eyes that showed the 'new idea' he had been hoping for._

"_And how we would do that, sir?"_

"_Everyone has something they will go after, at all costs."_

* * *

"The mutant population has become progressively vocal as the MRD charges forward, arresting and detaining mutants. To date, fourteen mutants have been detained and placed in special facilites. MRD has refused to release any statements about their whereabouts or what is being done with them. The press has been assured that the public has no reason to fear their escape and that measures have been taken to assure the safety of all humans. Now we turn to our mutant issues correspondent –"

The TV flicked off and the remote was thrown at the screen. Someone caught it before it smashed the screen but other than that there was no movement from those in the room. Izabelle had been reading to Sam when Scott had begun watching the news. The headlining report caught their attention immediately. During the course of the report the room had filled with passersby and despite the silence, no one moved or spoke.

Mutants were being abducted and never seen again. The witch hunt had begun.

Izabelle felt Sam's hand grasping hers tightly and could see the tightened expression on his face. His siblings were mutants, though luckily they were all at the school now. But the rest of his family was still out there…

Suddenly Izabelle was glad she had freed her family of her. They were safe at least.

_Due to recent news –_ the mental report broke through the fog in everyone's minds – _everyone in this school is to be with another at all times. No one is to be on the grounds or leave the school alone, for any reason._

Xavier's announcement was what they needed. The room buzzed with talk, some grateful and some annoyed.

Sam turned to her and tried to smile. "Wanna' walk it off?"

Izabelle smiled back. "Tonight. I should see if Hank has anything for me today."

On her way out she caught Amara and Tabitha. But her thoughts were not with the annoyed chattering of Boom-Boom or the worries of Magma.

The last two tests had had almost no effect of any sort. She was beginning to lose hope.

Hank could sense her coming before she reached him: "Hello Izabelle."

"Hank."

"I assume based on the recent announcement of Charles that there has been some news?"

Izabelle quietly relayed what she had heard on the news program.

Hank stopped fiddling and leaned against the wall next to her. When she looked up at him she could tell the news worried him.

"Mutant experimentation," he breathed.

"Are you sure that is what is happening?"

"I can deduct that but obviously I cannot prove anything. If they are being detained and kept even out of the eye of useful forces like the media then there must be some purpose they do not want us to see."

Izabelle shivered. It was one thing for a friend like Hank to willingly test her for a cure or something, but to have that forced upon her…

"Well, this does change my plans." He was smiling down at her, his eyes dancing mischievously at her. He continued: "I have long attended various concerts and plays through the city, frequently alone but sometimes with company." He moved to his desk and pulled out a ticket. "I was planning on giving away the extra but if I remember correctly you are familiar with _The Queen of Spades_."

The ticket he handed her was embossed in gold ink. It declared itself to be for the opera _The Queen of Spades_, based on the short story by Pushkin.

Her bright eyes opened wide and he grinned. He had surprised her as he had hoped to.

"I can't very well go alone anymore, and remembering your affection for Russian poets killed in duels I thought of you first of all."

Doubt crept across her face and she handed the ticket back to him slowly. This was very close indeed to a date and Izabelle did not go on dates. "I can't. Not that I don't appreciate it. Someone else would be glad to go I'm sure."

"It would be a good opportunity to get away from here for a while, Izabelle. I know that recent tests and events have only added to the stress of your situation. This is an opportunity to leave it all for a while, and become lost in opera."

Her eyes searched his face. She wanted deeply to say yes and just go with him, but not only for the opera. Even the thought of Hank in a suit sent her pulse skyrocketing. But that could not be what he wanted; it was simply unthinkable. She couldn't start down this road again. It was too much: too much hurt and loneliness of a variety others never had to know.

Hank watched her eyes dart around but let her settle it with herself. He could only hope to work his way in quietly and with little steps from her; forcing her in any direction would put a flat end to any possibility…

Izabelle screwed her eyes shut and drowned out all her doubts with her declaration. "I would be glad to accompany you, Dr. McCoy. I swear to protect you from all madmen and monsters we may encounter."

He smiled softly and handed her the ticket. "Glad to hear it! There is no one I would rather go with."

* * *

"_Who do we know with connections? Any sympathies or significant relationships?"_

"_Sir?"_

"_Remember: everyone has something they will go after at any cost. No matter how rational or irrational." _

"_To date there are a limited number of outside relationships. The mutant community, like most other minorities, tends to seek within itself." _

"_What do we have?" _

"_Scott Summers and Jean Grey have been in a long term relationship, one that even serves as a basis for their team."_

"_Go on…"_

"_Jean also has some interest in the mutant Wolverine."_

"_Mutual?"_

"_Very."_

"_While tempting and not impossible, a move that bold may only cause the mutants to rise directly against us."_

"_Indeed, sir."_

"_Any others of note? Did anyone notice anything when we were at the school ourselves?"  
"One of the men has a suggestion."_

_The solider was brought in and he recounted accurately how they had nearly captured a female when another mutant had saved her. The man could remember the incident foggily, having watched from the shadowed corridor. _

"_Look into who those mutants are."_

"_We already have, sir. He is Dr. Henry McCoy, known geneticist and respected scientist." _

"_She?"  
"She is hard to find, sir. Due to the nature of her powers she can go quite unknown. We believe her to be a journalist though."_

"_Connection to our doctor?" _

"_No definitive connection. His last significant relationship was with journalist Trish Tilby and that ended in rather public scandal." _

_The man frowned. "Keep looking and inform me of anything useful!"_

* * *

The opera had been glorious. And Hank hadn't been bad either.

Izabelle was lying in a hammock trying very hard not to move in the heat. Tabitha's feet were by her shoulder, also in the hammock, and Sam and Amara lounged in the shade. Izabelle tickled Tabitha's feet with a stalk of grass absently.

They had agreed that it would be best to sneak away quietly due to the rather formidable 'grapevine' that ran through the school. Not that this had helped, but it had amused them nonetheless.

Izabelle had driven after much protesting from Hank, but she argued the valid point that they were much less likely to be pulled over with her driving, based on profiling. Hank had begrudgingly agreed after expressing that he felt it was his duty. "Well, since this isn't a date I won't hold it against you," she had replied. He had laughed but she noticed there was not the usual clever quip.

After the opera, Hank had insisted that since he had been barred from driving they must have a glass of wine. Izabelle had joked that she did not understand how this followed but the time was well spent.

And yet, even after returning to the school past midnight, Tabitha had 'caught' them parting ways.

Tabitha now poked at Izabelle with a toe. "She's still thinking about her date with the Doctor!"

Izabelle kicked back at her and laughed, though she could feel she was blushing. "It was not a date! You know what Xavier said!"

"I think he's just trying to hook us all up. He's secretly a matchmaker," Amara giggled.

"Well, if that's the plan he needs to give me a hand," Roberto joined them, smiling, "I'm having no luck at all."

"Some of us have more luck than others," Tabitha said pointedly.

Izabelle flipped Tabitha out of the hammock. "Some of us have _friends_, Tabby dear!"

Tabitha over turned the hammock and, amdist some laughs, Sam expertly changed the subject.

Later that afternoon, Hank was injecting yet another compound into yet another place on her arms. He insisted on avoiding use of the same spot over and over because the skin could harden.

"You've created a problem for me, Henry."

Hank smiled as he carefully pulled the needle from her shoulder. She loved using formality for emphasis in exactly the opposite way he did and she had made good use of his first name since she had learned it.

"And how, dear Izabelle, have I done this thing?"

"There seems to be a rumor going about the school."

"In the form of our blonde explosive mistress?"

"Indeed."

"And the nature of this rumor?"

Izabelle stopped and she noticed Hank had also ceased what he was doing. Something stopped her from saying what it was that Tabitha had said. It was fully innocent, misguided but innocent. Maybe it was the memory of Hank's silence in the car. Or maybe it was tact. But she knew, deep in herself, that it was the knowledge that teasing could be carried to far, into truth.

"One of little consequence."

Hank nodded and seemed to relax. He knew what Izabelle's view of romance was and there was no hope of that as long as her powers controlled her, rather than the other way around. He felt bad, doing these things here and there to win her affection indirectly. He would have preferred to win her openly, but to do nothing at all was not in him.

About an hour later the effects of the compound kicked in, with amusing results. Hank was reading with Izabelle when she looked up at him and smiled. But it was smiled of pleasant surprise.

"Hello! When did you get here?"

His eyebrows jumped up. "We came here together, Izabelle."

"Ah! So we did! Sorry!" She looked at him a moment longer and then began to look around her.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Where exactly are we? In the school I mean?"

"The study…"

"Of course." Pause. "What was I doing?"

"Reading. Your book is on your left."

She picked it up and smiled gratefully. She began to read and he did not. Instead he watched her over his glasses. In only a few minutes she turned back to him.

"I can't seem to remember much of it. I think I will head to my room."

Hank nodded and suggested tentatively, "Do you remember how to get there?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly."

Hank could not help but smile. She was naturally a bit forgetful and scattered (she called it being fluffy headed) but this seemed to have turned her own powers on her.

He lead her to her room but did not leave once she was there. There was low probability of danger with this side effect but he was interested in seeing how this played out.

She began looking through her things as if she had not seen them in a long time. After a few minutes she turned to him. "My book…?"

He took it from his pocket and handed to her. She grinned up at him thankfully and placed it on a nightstand.

She fiddled with her hair and then began to search in all the wrong places for her brush. Hank had not spent great amounts of time in her room but even he knew her brush was not where she was looking for it. He coughed politely and pointed to her dresser. She nodded gratefully and brushed out her short hair.

She stopped when she noticed an article and picture taped to her mirror. She glanced over it and then examined it more closely.

"I wrote this?"

"Indeed you did. One of the few pieces you wrote if I remember right."

"I mostly took pictures?"

He nodded. She furrowed her brow and then a look of remembering flew across her face.

"The last article I ever wrote. What got me in trouble. Trish Tilby."

Hank's face was priceless but she wouldn't remember it. "Excuse me?"

"Trish Tilby. I ran a smear about her for almost a week."

Hank was, for once without anything to say. "Over what, pray tell?"

"She dumped her significant other. He was a well-known mutant. She decided her career meant more to her."

Hank's stomach flipped. He could remember well the articles of a particularly vocal writer absolutely shredding Trish but he had never paid attention to who the writer was. It hadn't seemed important at the time.

Izabelle saw Hank's face and rushed to him. "Are you okay?"

A smile broke through the shock, "Think very hard, Izabelle. Who was the mutant she let go?"

Her little freckled nose scrunched up with the perplexity of not remembering. "I don't think I even knew his right name. He only called himself…B…"

"Beast?"

"Yes! That was-" she stopped dead, the coin finally dropping. "You! That was you!"

Hank laughed a little. "Indeed. I seem to have little luck with journalists." She looked confused but he knew she would forget his momentary showing of his cards, which he usually played so close to his chest.

"I'm sorry. I would have never brought it back up."

He waved her off and took her hand reassuringly.

"Those articles were particularly satisfying at the time. And to know you wrote them, even more so."

"Well, I can remember something useful. That is good anyway."

"Did you know I was…"  
"No, honestly. It was a busy time and I don't think I could have even picked you out of a crowd. I would have defended Magneto against such outrageous behavior."

Hank grinned. "Come on. Let's see if we can find you an antidote."

Izabelle did remember this bit of information even beyond the confusion-inducing test, and if Hank had doubted her sincerity in things she had said in his defense of appearance and value, all of that ended then. She had defended him before she ever knew him. She meant what she said.

Izabelle remembered one other sentence clearly but could not make it fit within her paradigm of reality. She could distinctly remember Hank telling her that he had no luck with journalists, but what that could mean was beyond her.

* * *

"_It would seem, sir, that the Professor has enacted a rule amongst his mutants forbidding them from traveling, even outdoors, alone."_

"_One must wonder the reaches of his telepathy. This does confuse our plans. Are there any consistent couplings that have emerged from this?"_

"_So far only a few potential couples have even left the campus."_

"_They are…?"_

"_One is Piotr Rasputin and Katheryn Pryde. Another is Lorna Maximov and Alex Summers."_

"_Scrap that last one. We are not bringing Magneto down on our heads with his daughter."_

"_Hank McCoy and Izabelle Rowan were seen at an opera and later at a bar together. Beyond that we are still looking."_

"_Izabelle?"  
"The journalist, sir. We were able to confirm it is her."_

"_Very well. Keep your eyes on them and keep looking. We must have bait!"_

* * *

Izabelle flicked off the TV. More mutants missing. Now she wished for the silence that had seemed so unnerving.

Roberto offered her a Jello cube and she shook her head feircly. Her stomach turned and it must have shown in her face because Sunspot. She needed some fresh air. Getting up, she heard echoes after her that she shouldn't go far alone and she assured them she wouldn't.

It was overcast and she sat heavily in the bench swing among the flowers of the garden. The air was heavy and didn't help.

A week ago, Hank had found yet another compound. Her eyes watered just remembering it. It had helped the most, second only to the orange hell drug. And then it had bitten back. For a full day she had retched and vomited, sleeping in her bathroom. Mercifully the fade out had come later, so her friends had nursed her with Jello and Sprite. Now the sight of either made her gag but it had helped.

A heaviness sat on her chest. There truly was no hope for her. Five tests and nothing that could be used. Orange hell. Nothing at all. More nothing. Confusion. Violent illness. Her eyes clouded with tears and she rested her head against the chain of the bench swing.

"Izabelle."

She brushed at her eyes and saw her blue mutant walk over to her from the school. "Hank."

"Not a terribly nice day."

"Not really." She made room for him and he gingerly sat beside her, unsure if it would hold his weight.

"I have yet another option. I realize the last one was fairly-"

"Awful."

"Putting it mildly, yes. But you did once ask me to tell you of any and all options so…" he faded out and watched her.

"I don't want to hear any more. No more tests."

"Izabelle?"

"I can't do this anymore."

"But Izabelle," he looked deep into her eyes, "I've found the connection. Between the very first test and the last one. I have isolated the chemical and we can begin in very small doses. I truly think-"

"I don't care."

She got up and began to leave but he caught her arm. Her eyes were filling up again. She pulled away from him, but his grip was firm.

"Izabelle, please. Tell me what is wrong. If you do not want to test we will never speak of it again. But do tell me why."

She yanked away so forcefully he was surprised. "I can't live like this!" Her hair was wild in the electric air and bushed out around her. "Every time there is some terrible side effect and nothing works. Some things work sometimes in small ways but it's never enough."

"But it's not about the tests is it?" Hank had switched from doctor to friend seamlessly and now he looked at her tenderly.

"I can't be helped!" Her voice cracked loudly and a tear slipped out. A fork of lightning and a clap of thunder broke overhead. "I am cursed to be forgotten for my whole life! And no one can possibly understand! I am _alone_!"

"But there are so many mutants here and all of us are alone in some way."

"You still don't get it!" The volume alone of her scream was enough to force him back a step. "Your mutation isolates you because of appearance. Jean's because of suspicion of integrity. Logan because of near immortality. Fine! But none of you, NONE OF YOU, can understand not existing! Of being simply erased!"

She broke then, with the clouds, and the rain mixed with her tears, drowning out her crying.

"And you think you have seen it all and can understand. But you have no idea!" Her voice was a low growl and she could not go on for crying.

For the first time, it broke through to Hank. She was forgotten and alone. He had always assumed they were one and the same as they had been for him. But she felt the sting of both every time her mutation lashed out. No one could really understand her: her life, her feelings, her isolation.

So he did the only thing he felt he could do. Soaked through and cold, he wrapped his arms around her and against her feeble struggling he held her to him. He soon felt her arms return the embrace and could feel warm tracks of her tears on his chest where her face was buried. Things changed for Hank irreversibly in that moment.

Eventually, Izabelle had cried herself out and she looked bashfully up at him. And the look she gave him betrayed the same change in their relationship that he had felt himself. There was a closeness there that was so different, heavy with affection and the beginings of understanding. It was one thing to know someone; it was another to understand them.

Neither spoke and neither felt the need. Hank gently wrapped his arm about her shoulders and led her quietly to the mansion, the rain pounding down and washing away tears.

* * *

_Hooray for reviews! Thanks to Mantisfera and Suaviterinmodo for reviewing! Please continue to give me your feedback! It's what keeps the story going!_

_And since I haven't said my token bit yet: I don't own Hank though I wish I did and I do own Izabelle. _


	6. Chapter 6: Success and Awkward Moments

_Thank you to my reviewers! I love the feedback and it helps me write! This next chapter was fun to do so I hope you all like it! _

* * *

**Chapter 6: Success and Awkward Moments**

Izabelle tentatively poked her head around the lab corner. Hank had, for one of the very first times, promised that he truly thought this time it would work. And Hank was so careful. She had felt terrible for venting her feelings on him; she knew he was doing what he could. The positive side was that something new had come from it. He was more than just a friend now...

Hank had everything ready and held a hand out to her without speaking. He looked over his pince-nez at her but she kept her head down, hair hanging in her face. She took his hand and he lightly lifted her onto the med bed, facing him. She pulled up her right sleeve without looking at him. It had all the feel of a lethal injection and he would have ended it all then if she had let him. But she wouldn't; finding a cure or help was as consuming as finding the fountain of youth in lore.

Carefully, Hank injected a clear liquid into her vein and capped the needle. There was silence as they both watched her arm, as if something could be seen there. Her hair and his fur were curling from the humidity; a curl dropped out of place and hung by the corner of her hazel eye.

Izabelle felt pressure on her neck and she jumped. Hank gently cupped her white throat in a hand and with his thumb pushed the curl back into place. Her breath caught and everything froze.

He leaned over very slowly and pressed a kiss gently on Izabelle's summer freckled cheek. Izabelle turned her face toward his and he paused, his face inches from hers. She had never noticed the flecks of violet in his bright blue eyes before.

But Hank knew now was not the right time and stood, pulling his face from hers. She was emotionally fragile and nothing healthy would grow from that. He had learned at least that much in his thirty five years.

He could hear her leap down from the bed and he felt her take his arm in both of hers. She hugged his arm, which was almost the same girth as her waist, in a tight embrace and left for training with Xavier. With her gone he had time to reflect. Clearly the days of claiming he did not have feelings for her were behind him. However, her reluctance to enter into a relationship was a force to be reckoned with. He ran a hand through his thick hair. He would just have to keep trying and hope for the best. What did he have to lose?

* * *

"Alright, Izabelle." Xavier's voice was mellow as ever and soothing. But even his soothing voice could not quell the rising giddiness that was drowning out sense. All she could think of was that kiss. Clearly, she thought, it was a simple gesture of affection; her parents had kissed her on the cheek for heaven's sake! But _affection_! This was affection she had seen given to few others in the mansion and she indeed had watched. Certainly she must be special to him in some way...

"I need you to chose a clear memory and focus on it exclusively."

Izabelle wanted to only focus on the kiss but she drove it from her mind; she knew the Professor would not mind or comment but it was not something she wished to share.

When the mentor's eyes met hers the look in them made her blush; whether by his mutations or not Xavier had some idea that something was up.

Blushing, she focused on flying with Sam. Izabelle took a deep breath and relaxed her body. Flying with Sam. It was a vivid experience and there was nothing else like it. She imagined the whoosh of the wind, her hair blowing straight back on her head, his goggled face grinning at her, and the sights of the school passing below.

And suddenly she knew what she had to do to pass the memory on to Xavier. It was as clear as taking a picture and handing it to another person.

"_Izabelle! You're doing it!"_ Xavier's mental voice encouraged her and she exploded the detail of her memory, sending it in a constant stream to Xavier. She had never even realized that she could remember so much though she had been told the mind remembered much more than we know.

But the effort, even with the new serum was exhausting and since it was her first effort she was quickly worn out. She let the memory fade and closed her eyes. She was breathing heavily though she had not noticed it. She felt Xavier place a hand on her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see a rare grin.

"You did it, Izabelle."

* * *

"Hank!"

Hank has been destined for his room when he heard his name shouted, half hysterically, from the top of the entryway stairs. He snapped his files closed so hard they clipped his nose. There was alarm in that voice and he knew exactly whose voice that was.

Izabelle was standing at the top of the stairs. She was flushed with some strong emotion and he could not immediately tell what. She was visibly shaking. The air around them seemed to gel and stop moving for a long moment. Then a grin broke through Izabelle's face and the moment dissolved.

"It worked, Hank! It _worked_!"

There was a clatter as everything he was holding fell from his hands. His relief and happiness was total.

Izabelle flew down the stairs in a whirl and launched herself at him. He caught her in midair and bear hugged her, spinning her around. He could hear her laughing and when he placed her back on the ground he could see tears on her face.

"I don't even know what to say!"

"That you will attend another event with yours truly?" He was grinning now as well.

"Hank McCoy, I will attend every play, concert, and opera you can dig up in all of New York with you!"

The laughter and shouting attracted attention and Amara and Tabitha were the first to hear the news. Their shrieking caused Hank to cover his sensitive ears and drew even more people. Roberto suggested that this was an occasion for drinks, and before she knew it Izabelle was being whisked away to the garage.

Hank was left with his fellow X-Men who congratulated him on his success. A tug on his sleeve drew his attention down to his side and before he knew what had happened Izabelle had planted a kiss on his cheek.

She wanted to say something else but there were not words for it so she took off to rejoin her friends, blushing furiously.

A blue fingertip gently traced where her lips had been. Hank smiled and picked his scattered files up off of the floor, resuming his trek to his room, smiling all the way.

* * *

Izabelle had only intended it to be a joke. But someone always got hurt. And usually it was her.

Hank had made a habit of sneaking up on her after the first time it worked, the day she sunburned. And she did scare easily. If you jumped out of a closet she would almost always scream.

Hank had used this so much to his advantage that he had even perfected getting her to anticipate being scared until all he had to do was make a loud noise and she would shriek, even if he was in plain view.

So she had wanted to get him back. This seemed fair to her.

He had been reorganizing his shelves and taking inventory. His serum for Izabelle had consistently worked and he had begun stocking it for her.

He was so freakishly unflappable that it never occurred to her that he might react similarly to herself.

She announced she was leaving. He had given her an answer that assured her he was not listening. She had, very cleverly she thought, crept behind the tables and objects of the lab. She had then stood up just in his periphery and shrieked.

She had never known a cabinet door could hurt so much. The force of Hank flinging the cabinet door open right where her face happened to be was enough to knock her over.

Hank stood gaping for a moment before quickly bending to her side. He began to check her pupils while she groaned. She tried to regain her dignity but she was dizzy and gave up, letting him cradle her with one arm.

"It's not fair," were the first words to come out her mouth, a whine of annoyance but not anger.

"I'm so sorry -" but she cut him off.

"You scare me all the time! I can't win!"

Her face was red and puffy on the left side; it would definitely bruise. This was hugely embarrassing and to explain it he would have to include his sophomoric teasing.

"I will get Angel and we can-"

"Not a chance."

"What?" Hank didn't think he had heard her correctly.

"I'm sporting this thing for all it is worth. If I can't scare you back at least I can have something to tease you about!"

Hank was caught between wanting to laugh and knowing that battering the woman he hoped to be with wasn't funny at all. Izabelle let him twist in front of her before she herself burst out laughing.

"How..." Hank's words came slowly but he was smiling sheepishly, "how do you do this to me? I feel as though the most awkward moments of all my life involve you in some way."

"Maybe I have another mutation." She pushed her face coyly into his own. "And there must be but one way to test that."

"Oh?" His eyes sparkled. She loved that he could see her jokes coming a mile away and, though he would get that look, he enjoyed hearing her tell them and would always, always laugh.

"We must spend a significant amount of time together and test the ratio of awkward to non-awkward moments. This can be the only way."

"That is a test I would willingly perform. Starting Wednesday night perhaps?" And he drew a concert ticket from his back pocket. He had meant to surprise her later but the moment was as perfect as if he had set it up.

"Hmm...You did just bash me in the head with a cabinet door..."

He opened his mouth to defend himself and then closed it again quickly, realizing there would probably be a lot of this sort of thing for a while.

"But you do need someone to protect you and did I say I would attend any event you could dig up...So I accept!" She plucked the ticket from his hand smartly and smiled her now lopsided smile at him. Her face was now a light purple that he silently prayed would not darken.

And true to her word, Izabelle played up the event whenever anyone asked her about the soon large and prominent bruise on her face. One would think she were describing a war wound. But the story always ended in laughter and a wink at Hank.

And with this the teasing began. Tabitha and Roberto were merciless, making cracks and hints whenever there was opportunity and launching into giggles when she blushed incriminatingly.

By Wednesday, the concert date was known by all of their friends and the bruise was finally beginning to fade.

* * *

Izabelle's heart was pounding as she dried and pinned her hair. This wasn't a date. This was two friends going to an event together. There was no way that Hank felt anything other than friendly affection for her. He was a much stronger and intelligent person than she and she had told him several times that she would not be in a relationship with anyone.

She had given up trying to hide from herself her affection for and attraction to him. She liked him. There was a freedom in admitting that to herself that allowed her to build defenses against the blows of his inevitable forgetfulness and against the more likely moment when she had to face the truth that he no longer held affection for her, if he ever had.

But it had become harder. Now with the serum Hank had found for her she had impressive control. But there would still be fade outs and the inevitability hung over her hopes.

He had offered his friendship and that she would take wholeheartedly. But more beyond that would be refused. She would, if she must, turn him away.

* * *

Hank waited at the bottom of the grand staircase in the mansion entry way. Izabelle had sent Tabitha to badger him into not wearing an image inducer. Normally, this would be a stupid move with the MRD prowling, but his accomplishments in science and politics had given him a kind of immunity that MRD would not dare to touch. At least not yet.

As he waited he considered running off and changing, not sure if his suit would be over formal or not. His longish hair was pulled back and the shorter front part framed his face.

Rising out of the floor, two giggling women appeared. Black hair and a yellow trench holding on to brown wavy hair. "Are you nervous? You look _quite_ dressed up!"

Hank tried to glower at them.

"Oh come on! It's very sweet."

"Well, keep quiet for now."

They understood what he meant and Jubilee cut in. "We've dealt with every weird situation under the sun, Hank. Your secret's safe with us."

But Hank wasn't paying attention to them anymore. His gaze rested on the staircase.

"Oh my stars and garters..."

Izabelle wore a long simple black dress with black gauzy flowers crossing her back and over one shoulder. More becoming still was her low blush and shining eyes, which rose to meet Hank's. She would never have thought blue fur could look so very good, but it was Hank as she knew him and she was irreversibly attracted to him in every way.

She walked slowly down the steps and Hank moved smoothly past Kitty and Jubilee. He held a hand out to meet her when she reached the bottom and she took it shyly.

"You look… enchanting."

She fiddled with her clutch but was obviously very pleased with the compliment.

"Hank's right," Kitty rejoined, "You look wonderful."

"Thank you," she murmured. Hank had forgotten how shy Izabelle could be, especially around the 'veterans' of the mansion.

"We will now be _going_. Goodnight ladies."

Smiling like they were going to burst they sunk into the floor with a small wave.

Hank sighed heavily and turned to apologize to Izabelle. However she was hiding giggles behind her hand.  
"You have no idea what I had to endure to get from my room to this end of the building," she explained, "Don't worry about it."

He grinned and offered her his arm.

* * *

The last notes of the orchestral piece hung in the air. Izabelle and Hank clapped enthusiastically and she lifted her head from his shoulder. She had somehow ended up resting it there somewhere along the line of the concert; it remained there because it felt very natural that it should be there. He had smiled at her and even adjusted his shoulder for her.

"That was wonderful!"

"A concert of that magnificence can only be followed by another perfected art! Food and drink!"

Izabelle agreed, giggling. He insisted he was old fashioned and could not imagine going to the theater and then returning to forage among high school children. She was more than happy to be party to this.

"I will find your wrap and return." Hank bowed deeply and left Izabelle there. As he strode purposefully through the throng of people he could not help but smile to himself. She was becoming quite taken with him, now in ways more similar to the ways he felt about her. She had always felt _toward_ him but that was not the same as feeling _for_ him. And he knew these things: he could see her pupils dilate when she saw him, he could feel her pulse race when he embraced her, and he could hear the pleasure in her voice when they spoke. He had very fine senses.

Had he been concentrating on using them more though the next occurrence could have been avoided.

"Hank?"

Hank took Izabelle's wrap from the man behind the coat check and turned. He found himself facing someone he had rather hoped to not see. Ever again, actually.

"Trish."

She looked good, better even than when they were together. Same short black crop cut though.

"How _are_ you?"

"Considering recent events involving certain government military branches, not so good actually. I've noticed your particular broadcast has avoided the issue."

She smiled, insincerely. "You still watch me?"

"No, actually. I prefer to watch the news."

She decided to try a different tack. "I have missed seeing _you_, Henry."

Anger sparked in him; how could she always do that? She always picked up right where they left off and he could always feel it working!  
"Who is this, dearest?" He jumped, but a small hand held his tightly. Izabelle had appeared at his elbow. He stared at her for a moment but quickly caught on.

"This is Trish Tilby."

"Oh!" Izabelle's voice jumped with polite interest. "The ex, correct?"

Trish visibly bristled. "I am a reporter."

"Is that what they call it?" Izabelle cocked her head and looked at the other woman like a curious bird. Hank coughed back a laugh.

"And who are _you_?" Pretense gone, the question was obviously rude.

"The fiancee."

Hank blushed a little and suddenly felt the room was a bit hot.

Trish turned on him. "You never struck me as the marrying type, Hank."

"See, I was under the impression you were already married," Izabelle cut in before Hank could snap back. Her voice was like satin.

"Oh?"

"Yes. To your career."

Hank didn't even stifle the laugh this time, a loud bark of laughter. He gently draped Izabelle's wrap around her. They had attracted a bit of attention and now Trish was not going to walk away the loser.

"Well, let me then offer some advice, one married woman to another. A bruise of that magnitude does raise some doubts as to the quality of the person wearing it. You can't be very satisfying."

Hank felt Izabelle tighten.

"Do you truly know him so very poorly as that?" Their eyes met and Trish looked away; of course what she had accused was not true but that was not the point. "Goodbye, Trish Tilby." And Izabelle turned sharply and left, Hank very close behind her.

It was a full block before Izabelle spun on him.

"I'm so sorry, Hank."

"For what? You rescued me from the she-devil."

"And I've implied something that is not. Something that will never be."

Hank usually went along with these assertions of Izabelle's but this time was different. He could sense Izabelle's strong feelings of animosity for Trish. It bothered her more than just on a friendly level.

"Maybe not such a liar as all that?" Izabelle's eyes widened slightly and he noticed. He backtracked quickly. "Besides, you need to keep up appearances after that smear campaign."

She smiled a little and took his arm. But her feelings worried her. And she knew what she really wanted...but they weren't _anything_. They had been _playing_ the part of a couple.

* * *

"Hit harder, Izabelle! It won't do if you're just tappin' the MRD!"

Sam enjoyed this far too much, Izabelle thought, glowering at him. She wasn't even supposed to be here. She had been told no training. But now she had to. They all did.

There had been even more reports of mutants being arrested by the MRD and disappearing. But now there were more arrests and fewer disappeared, only the valuable and strong, but Xavier wasn't going to take chances. So here she was, in the tightest damn thing she had ever worn (totally unbefitting for her) and trying to hit Sam. She was starting to wish she _could_ hit him harder.

Finally and mercifully, the training ended and the group was dismissed. The X-Men would be in soon for their own session.

Izabelle had never been a fan of shared showers but now she was hot enough she didn't care. However, she would soon have a reason to like them even less.

Tabitha had been looking for a chance to get Izabelle back for a prank she had pulled on her. She had gotten the rest of their group to talk in very soft voices every time Tabitha had been around for a few days straight. Since her powers resulted in massive explosions, BoomBoom had thought she was going deaf. She took the prank well but promised to return the favor.

The chance now presented itself in the form of Izabelle's neatly laid out clothing. Quietly, Tabitha left her undergarments and stole away with the rest of the stack.

When BoomBoom entered the Danger Room carrying the clothing there was a forest covering the area. Tabitha placed the bundle on a branch, low and easy to see but far enough away that Izabelle would actually have to walk out and get them.

Needless to say that Izabelle was much less than pleased to find that suddenly her regular clothes had totally vanished. After much searching she gave up, realizing that Tabitha must have taken them and must have moved them.

"Where would I hide clothes if I were Tabitha?" she asked no one. Her eyes fell on the Danger Room door.

* * *

The forest disappeared and a little bundle of clothes dropped out of nowhere and fell to the floor. Forge squinted down from the control room.

"Hey, someone go get whatever that is out of the Danger Room! We can't start if there's junk in there!"

Hank and Bobby were the only ones early to the training so they were the only ones to hear the announcement.

"Head out and grab the newbie's junk?" Iceman grinned.

"Might as well," agreed Hank.

* * *

Izabelle was beginning to make her way to her clothes when everything vanished. Luckily, they only fell to the floor and they lay there. All she had to do was run out and get them.

She was only in her underwear, which BoomBoom had mercifully left her.

All she had to do was run out and grab her clothes. She threw the door open and bolted.

* * *

Hank was leaning down to pick up the little pile of clothes. They somehow looked familiar but he could not have placed why.

As his hands closed on them, a small hand grabbed the pile. In a slow, almost comical, moment, he and the other hand's owner looked up into each others faces.

Izabelle. In naught but her unders.

He locked up and just outright stared, still holding on to her clothes.

Izabelle felt herself growing hot all over and completely unsure of what to do now. She snatched at her clothes, yanking them from his hands, and tore off, slamming the door behind her.

Bobby waited respectfully until she had gone before he died laughing.

Hank shook his head a few times and then pointed questioningly at the door she had left. Bobby only had to nod, still laughing, to confirm that this had indeed happened.

* * *

Izabelle was busy hiding when Bobby found her.

"Hello!" he chirped at her. It made him a bit of a bad person but he rather enjoyed seeing her blush and pull a blanket over her head.

"Leave me alone!"

"It wasn't so bad!"

That wasn't, on reflection, exactly the right thing to say. The blanket was whipped off of her head and she glowered at him.

"Wasn't _so bad_? And how could it have been worse?"

One wink was enough to send her back under the blanket.

"Listen," Bobby began soothingly, "I know you aren't upset about me being there. You're presently talking to me just fine. So let's ask ourselves who it is that bothered you."

Swiftly he lifted the blanket off her. She glowered again but didn't defend herself.

"I'll tell you one thing and then I'll leave you alone. Hank may not have minded as much as you think."  
There was a hint of a smile on her lips as Bobby left.

* * *

Hank had decided to tell Izabelle about his feelings for her. After all that had happened and the Danger Room...she had to know.

But first he had to find her. Given that she was now in training, teaching, and with the New Mutants in their down time, that had gotten a bit harder to do.

He was practicing to himself as he walked around; he wanted to get this right.

A familiar brown bob stood looking out the large bay windows in front of him. Now was his chance and everything was perfect. The sun was setting over the water and lit the room with a glow.

He inhaled deeply. "Izabelle, I need to be honest with you. It can come as no surprise to you to hear that I have feelings for you. I -"

The figure turned to face him and he stopped mid-sentence, suddenly feeling sick.

That. Was not. Izabelle!

Luckily for him he didn't know who it was so she must be new. A very small mercy.

She was giving him a look he himself normally reserved for when Izabelle had done something impressively odd.

"While I don't know this Izabelle, I do hope you find her and tell her. It sounds as though you care about her." She nodded to him and left.

Hank crashed in the library, a large paw covering his eyes as he leaned back in an arm chair. How could he have not noticed? He had the sharpest senses of anyone in the building and he had just confessed his feelings to the wrong person!

After a few minutes he was able to collect himself and think. Maybe this was a warning or sign or something. It had been a hasty decision made mostly because it would make his own life easier. He would wait. And he would keep waiting. He would wait until the right moment.

He collected himself, nodded decisively, and left.


	7. Chapter 7: Birthday Surprises

_And in record time...another chapter! Was feeling inspired on my 6 hour drive and 9 hour flight! :-P _

_As always, I deeply appreciate the reviews! Keep them coming!_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Birthday Surprises**

The air nipped at Izabelle's face and she zipped her jacket up. The weather had cooled and they had entered into the perfection that was autumn. She glanced over the piles of leaves dotted the huge lawn and smiled; she and the New Mutants had made a day of raking and playing in the leaves. She picked some stems out of her bob as she pushed open the glass doors to the school.

Short hair bouncing, she jogged down to the kitchen and began to heat some cider on the stovetop. The school had a trip to an orchard earlier in the week and she and Hank had gone as chaperones. Of course they had been inseparable and Hank had bought gallons of cider when she expressed a wish-fulness to have some. It had been overkill and she tried to convince him not to but he could be very stubborn. She smiled to herself as she poured hot cider into a mug, remembering his insistence that she accept it.

"Hello, Izabelle!" The familiar and bright voice caused her to smile and she leaned against the counter, facing Jean Grey. Kitty followed behind her and waved.

"What are you having?"

"Cider. You want some?"

"Sure! You seemed to end up with quite a bit of it." Jean smiled and handed over a mug Kitty gave Jean a significant look and nudged Jean. "Speaking of Hank...you two seem to be close."

"Indeed." Izabelle had learned to be a bit guarded with her deep feelings for him; people would misconstrue anything.

Kitty jumped in, trying her own method. "You know what would be amazing?"

"What?"

"If the two of you got together!"  
Izabelle choked a little on her cider and put her mug down. "I doubt that would be amazing, let alone likely, Kitty."

"I can see it. He's clearly into you."

"He seems to enjoy spending time with me but I hardly think that warrants a relationship."

Jean saw an opening and took it, "But he _is_ different with you, Izabelle. Hank is friendly but with you he is clearly enamored."

Izabelle smiled at them, but it wasn't a totally convinced smile. "Hank is a powerful, brilliant, and cultured man...I hardly think _I'm_ his type." She finished her cider, now hurrying to get out of there. This was the kind of thing she generally tried to avoid. Clearly he had flirted with her but he flirted with everyone. No, there was no reason to assume anything.

But... maybe she should put some space between them. After all, they had spent most of their time together these days and that _would_ lead people to talk. She regretted having to do it, but it had to be done. She would have to distance herself from him.

* * *

They had already planned a play for that night but that did not mean that she could not begin now. She tried to force space between them, but it was hard to enjoy herself this way. She wanted to be close to him.

Hank noticed. She wouldn't take his arm, she stayed a few steps away from him, and she laughed less. It concerned him; was she mad at him? He knew he had been acting much more obvious about his feelings but he expected she would say something to him directly about it if that were the problem.

Though they both watched _Cyrano de Bergerac_ together, they were very much apart from each other.

Hank found himself watching her rather than the play, worry nibbling at him. He took in the sight of her and found himself lost in it. Her stray flecks of hair that never lay anywhere and drove her crazy...her always busy hands with the nibbled nails...the thin crow's feet developing in the corners of her eyes.

A significance broke through his thoughts like a slow sunrise. He really cared about her. She understood him and he treasured her. He had always liked her but she meant so much more to him than just that.

Izabelle glanced at him and smiled, blushing to see him watching her. He was giving her a look she didn't recognize and she noticed him actually watching her. She had to fight every instinct in her to keep still and fiddle or bite her nails. She was torn: if this was the right thing to do, why did she feel so low and dishonest about it? Was there really another option?

The play ended with a sad but sweet note. Roxane never realized who really loved her until it was too late. It seemed almost symbolic to Izabelle.

There was no usual proposition of food and drink as they walked out into the cool darkness. Izabelle's rose colored gown swished as they walked in silence, still standing oddly apart. Hank led them to a park near the theater and, while she seemed hesitant, she did not resist his direction. He motioned her to a bench and stood, arms behind his back and feet planted apart, facing her. She felt nervous. He would not let her behavior go unquestioned and, of all the times this could happen, now she felt that maybe she did not have a tenable position after all.

"I have noticed some...distance from you, Izabelle, and I was wondering if there was an injury or offense which I might apologize for." His tone was repentant even though she knew he had done nothing wrong and the way he spoke made her weak in the knees.

She opened and closed her mouth several times before simply shaking her head. He took this as a cue and sat beside her. "Then what is it?"

His plea cut straight to her heart. "I think we should spend less time together. I think I have been unfair to you."

That was not what Hank had hoped to hear. Goosebumps broke out on his arms. "But...why? Did something happen?"

"No! You didn't do anything wrong. I just..." Izabelle inhaled deeply and made herself at least look him in the eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes. "We can't be together, Hank."

He hoped she was only speaking her thoughts to make sense of them, but the sound of those words still made his stomach turn over. "You don't mean that," came out of his mouth before he had time to register what he was saying.

Now it was her turn to be taken by surprise. He had never opposed her decisions about their relationship before now.

He tried to regroup in a softer way, "Why can't we be together?"

"Because I still fade out and you _always_ forget me like everyone else."

"But I understand you far better than most. We can perfect the serum. And we could work out ways to remember. I currently have some theoretical methods which only need be tested. "

She closed her eyes tightly and he could almost see the struggle within her. Her words came out in a hush, "But that is all so much work. It is so hard..."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the chirping around them. He felt a little defeated but she was still there, next to him, so he could not quit yet. She was right, though; if they did this, it would be so hard at times. But he did not see that as a reason to give up.

Izabelle broke the silence, "My birthday is this Friday. I have faded out every year since my powers manifested." She said no more and stared at her hands. It was not unusual for her to just say things and wait for his thoughts. He said something comforting but she mourned the fact that he did not take her hand. But that was her own fault. There was another pregnant pause and she could see him mulling something over. He had a way of sitting much straighter when he was contemplating.

"Izabelle...If I could remember you, if there was something I could do. Would that change anything at all?"

After another moment of struggle he saw her nod. "Yes," she whispered. It was not him she wanted to reject, that much was clear now, but it was the control her powers had over her life and the havoc they could wreck. If there was something that could be done, maybe she would be willing to try.

Involuntarily a stupid grin spread across his face. She could not help but notice and her secret smile shone back at him. She dropped her head on his shoulder, relieved. Somehow that had broken the unspoken hopelessness that had settled on them.

"You're right, Hank. I could never avoid you."

He laughed and, offering his arm, led her off into the night.

* * *

"Look!" Izabelle stopped walking and pulled on his arm. She was pointing to a very fine looking poster.

" 'X' A gala of fine art," Hank read aloud, "Art featuring and created by mutants."

"That's amazing," Izabelle breathed, "And gutsy. The MRD still needs warrants for arrests but something like this is a public line drawing."

"When is it?" Hank leaned in to read the fine print of the poster, but she was tugging on his arm again.

"Doesn't matter. It's sold out."

"When is it?" He caught "The Soren Carver Center" before she pulled him away. He had known Soren Carver back in the day...

"This Saturday."

* * *

Hank motioned a bit awkwardly to Izabelle's door. "Here you are!"

She giggled at him and hugged him. But the hug changed mid-embrace and now there was desire and need. He held her close and buried his face in her hair.

"Hank...I..." Her hazel eyes met his and he could see she was on the verge of something. "I had a good time."

"Oh."

Her heart sank. That had been lame. She unlocked her door.

"Izabelle!" His voice was urgent and he caught her arm.

She was spun around, tripping on the rug in the hall. She fell and and he caught her up in his arms, pulling her close. Her arm draped around his neck for support and as she looked up into his crystal blue eyes she noticed how very close her lips were to his. Everything felt a bit hot suddenly...

He moved a hand up her back and held her waist close against him. His heart pounded in time with hers.

"Sorry," she breathed. The moment passed and he set her back on her feet.

"Not at all."

"What were you going to say?"

"Just...goodnight."

"Oh. Goodnight."

Izabelle felt a storm of emotions as they said goodnight for once and all. What did she want? Maybe he really could make this work out, but no one had ever been able to. However, no one had really tried.

* * *

The news that greeted Izabelle on the morning of her fade out was not anything that would help her. The MRD had been publicly accused of mutant testing and now it was "under investigation" though no progress was actually being made. On top of that, the MRD was also working out a new retroactive warrant that would allow illegal search and seizure so long as results were gained.

She sunk back into her bed and pulled her grey comforter over her head. Her birthday was Friday and this was only Tuesday. It would be a horribly long week.

* * *

Hank found a note that he could not understand at all. It had been taped across the screen of his computer. It was clearly in his handwriting and he must have put it there. But the person it referred to was not someone he knew.

His gaze fell on a picture poking out from some papers. It was him and a woman he did not recognize on a hay ride with some of the students. He remembered the event but not the woman, which was odd because the look he was giving her in the picture seemed to imply he should definitely remember her.

A note was stuck to this as well: there was an arrow pointing to her and the word Izabelle.

He looked at the note from the computer and back at the photo. He flipped the computer on and searched his files, running a hand through his hair as he did so. He skimmed her file and suddenly it all made sense.

* * *

A lovely envelope was waiting for him when he reached his desk.

"What is this about?"

He gently tore it open and found a note and two other items resting in it.

The note read, "As you requested. Look forward to your attendance. Soren."

He felt more confused now and went to his note pad. He could not remember bits of the week, but he did remember that the note pad seemed to always have some solution or answer in his own handwriting.

He rifled through the ones he had already read and glanced at the picture again. The new sticky note reminded him that the present should be there today and to give it to her tomorrow. Tomorrow in all caps and underlined.

So these must be for her, he thought looking at the picture. She really was very pretty...

* * *

Izabelle felt so tired she could die. She had insisted on training even though it was her birthday and now she regretted that decision.

She dropped into a poufy chair that was placed by a large bay window. The sun was just beginning it's decline and she began to drift off in the chair, warmed by the sun.

"Izabelle?"

She jumped up, stunned to be hearing his voice now. There were people here and there who still did not remember her and yet, here he was, actually looking at her like he knew who she was.

"Hank? How do you...?"

"Remember you? Well, that is part of my two fold birthday present. Which part would you prefer as the preliminary?"

She smiled and he hung his head around her chair as she sat back down. "How you remembered me first, then."

"I have devised a system that uses loopholes in your mutation." She looked confused so he explained. "I began with a note I wrote myself in advance. I knew that note would lead me to look for more information. After a trail of these leading me to more and more information that could only have been provided by myself, I learned to trust these notes and clues to inform me about you."

It began to make sense.

"Basically, I created memories of the information about you that were not directly tied to you. I still could not remember you but I could remember the notes and things they told me about you."

"But you never looked like you even remembered things about me. You even asked who I was at dinner only yesterday. How are you here now?"

He smiled a little half crafty and half embarrassed smile. "Your smell. Your skin...your perfume...your shampoo...Scent is the deepest connection to memory that we have." He finished off the statement by nuzzling the crook of her neck, earning a giggle.

"And what d o you mean by information about me?"

"Well, that is actually a misnomer. But that is very closely tied to present number two. So I will have to give you that one first."

From his sleeve Hank drew out two black and gold embossed tickets. The letter X was prominent on them and she gasped aloud. "Happy Birthday, Izabelle Mia Rowan."

She took them as if they would bite and stared at him. "How did you get these? They have been sold out for over a week!"

"I knew Soren Carver and he owed me a personal favor."

"But you didn't hear of any of this until last weekend. That means you..."

"Called him, ordered them, and received them after you had faded out. That is what I mean by information about you, in answer to your earlier question."

"I can't take these."

"Of course you can. They were of no cost to me and they are for you. Though of course you may do with them as you wish."

"Whatever I wish?"

Her tone made his senses jump up. "Yes. Of course."

She was staring straight into his eyes and he was almost afraid to look away.

"I want you to come with me. To the gala."

"I would be more than glad to add this to our list of-"

"No, Hank, you don't understand."

He stopped.

"I want you to come _with_ me. As my date." Izabelle's heart was in her throat when she said this and she was so nervous she felt sick. He had remembered her. Against all odds and unlike all others he had remembered her and even gotten her a significant present during the fade out. Maybe this could happen! And she let the impulsivity of this have the reigns.

"I would be deeply honored to do so. Seven? Tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"I must create some birthday surprise as an after-celebration then. For my date."

She was starting to feel a little sick and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She nodded weakly and they parted ways.

Hank waited till she was out of sight and then waited some more for the hallway to clear. He preferred to cartwheel the length of the hall in private.

* * *

As soon as he was out of sight she charged down the hall to her own room. Somewhere along the line she slammed into someone but she did not even stop. She must have some time to think! However, the person noticed her and went after her, slowly but deliberately.

As she lay on her bed she was torn between two poles. One was beaming, overjoyed, exuberant, and exploding with happiness. He would be her date! Not her "just friend."

The other pole kept her stomach rolling. How could she have done this? Nothing was different! He still forgot her in the fade out. He was just better than most now.

There was a knock on the door as it opened and Izabelle jumped up. "Hank, I..." she drifted off.

It was Sam and he looked very serious indeed. "We need to talk."

"Now?" She already had enough to think about.

"This very moment." She remained standing so he continued, holding her gaze as only he could. "I know it'll be of no surprise t' you t' learn that I too have feelings for you." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "Please don't argue that simple fact or the use of the word 'too'. You're an intelligent lady and now is the time to act it."

Izabelle felt her face burn. She had tried to ignore for a very long time Sam's affection toward her, hoping it was just how he was. But she did know. She had always known.

"But enough is enough, Izabelle! If you have any caring heart in you, you will get with Dr. McCoy. It's clear you have feelings for him and that he does for you too. So please, if not for yourselves then for me, just get together!" And he left as quickly as he had come.

Her eyes were as big as saucers as the door shut behind him. What was that? Sam had confessed to liking her to tell her that she needed to 'get with' Hank?

But the effect Sam had hoped for was reached. By showing that despite his own feelings he knew what she wanted and what was best for her, the wall she had built had cracked and was crumbling. All it needed now was one final push.


	8. Chapter 8: The Final Push

**Chapter 8: The Final Push**

Izabelle was trying very hard to remember how to breathe. She could swear that she had never been this nervous before in her entire life. She adjusted her gown for the millionth time and inspected her reflection. Tabby uttered some joking threat to keep her from changing, but she honestly was not listening.

There was a knock at the door and Amara jumped up to get it. Roberto ducked into the room with a bouquet of orange poppies, Japanese lanterns, and a delicate yellow flower growing in sprays.

"From a certain doctor," he declared regally handing the flowers to Izabelle and grinning as he took her in. "You are divine."

She managed to hug her friend and convey a message to Hank before the ladies pushed him out of the room. Izabelle placed the arrangement in a vase and ran her fingers gently over the gorgeous flowers.

"I'm so glad you guys are finally getting together! You are perfect together!" Amara was grinning to the bursting point.

Izabelle felt sick so she just kept her jaws clenched. She wasn't sure what was making her feel ill; was it the joy of being his date or the fear of where all this might go?

Tabby squeezed her shoulder and broke through her thoughts. "You'll figure it all out. It takes time and risk."

Izabelle couldn't help but smile; she was incredibly transparent. "I should go. Don't want to be late."

* * *

Hank was a composed man. And this composure could be very hard to read. But even a casual acquaintance would be able to read his nerves tonight.

On top of this, Izabelle had sent Roberto back to beg him to not wear his image inducer, which was always a little risky. He had taken to wearing it when they went out but she hated it. She said it was like when a child finds the wrong woman in a store; she looked up into the face of a man she did not know.

He had begun to pace without meaning to, weaving through the gardens where they had agreed to meet.

"Hank?" Her voice was as recognizable to him as a song or a specific instrument. And her smell…citrus perfume and soft skin…

He turned knowing it was her and the words he had prepared flew from his lips, leaving him foolishly staring at her. Her gown was fitted and long, made of a deep teal satin. One shoulder, scooping low under her opposite arm, was bare and the back was very low indeed.

"Oh my stars and garters…" he breathed.

She giggled at the use of his favorite expression, all the time taking in his appearance as well. His stylishly grey suit was cut to show his muscle and broad build. He had worn a vest just for her, since he had once gotten her to confess to a certain weakness for them. And he was blue and furred, just as she knew and adored him.

"Ready?"

* * *

The gala was like a dream for Izabelle. It was artistic expression at its very peak. The pieces were stunning, and each stood for a statement of mutant pride. Some of them even featured various X-Men that she knew and talked to every day, making them very surreal. Most of the artists were there as well. However, Izabelle would have met none of them were it not for Hank.

She knew "Dr. McCoy" was well known within his field and within politics, but she had little understanding of his importance until that night. He introduced her to each and every artist that he could find and most of them he had met before. He was gracious and complementary of her, not allowing her to feel overwhelmed or forgotten in the activity. He was her lifeline to a crowd of people she had no connection to and he carried her along graciously.

The latter part of the evening found them nestled in a corner, discussing their favorite pieces. Hank had wrapped an arm around her waist as they leaned in a windowsill together, Izabelle's heels discretely abandoned under them. Hank's favorite was a sculpture of Nightcrawler in a position similar to Rodin's Thinker. Not only did it amuse him greatly, but he believed that it showed that there was deep thought behind even the most inhuman of appearances. They were shamefully obvious and neither cared, both feeling a draw to abandon the farce they had kept up for so long.

"But your glass has gone dry! I shall return!" Hank declared after reducing her to peals of laughter. She grudgingly allowed his arm to slip away from her waist and followed him with her eyes.

"You must be Izabelle." The voice came from her elbow and she jumped, absorbed in watching Hank. A tall and very thin man with blonde-grey hair was smiling down at her.

"I am. And you are…?"

"Soren Carver."

She jumped up immediately, suddenly feeling very stupid for sitting in his windowsill. He only laughed and gestured for her to sit down again. Then he himself leaned against the sill next to her.

"You are here with our wonderful Dr. McCoy are you not?"

She nodded, feeling very small and shy. She could feel him looking her over.

"You are the most fortunate of women."

"How so?"

"He likes you very much. And he is a man worth having." Her surprised look caused him to laugh good-naturedly. "He does not call in favors for just anyone."

Izabelle grinned over at him.

"Soren!" Hank boomed happily as he approached with more champagne. "I see you have met my Izabelle."

Soren gave her a significant look at the use of "my" before standing and motioning for Hank to take a seat beside her in the window.

"She is beautiful, Hank."

"I know," he replied, looking Izabelle in the eyes as he said it. She glowed scarlet and both men tactfully turned the conversation to other things. Before he left, Soren told them both he had a request that they could not refuse.

"Do go on," laughed Hank.

Soren called over someone Izabelle recognized as one of the photographers. "I must have a photo of the two of you. You are so picturesque, in the window, with his frame and your petite figure. Please."

Hank threw her a questioning look and she acquiesced silently. The photographer moved them closer and placed their heads closer together. Then they were commanded to talk as they had been. This caused Izabelle to giggle, since few people can talk once told to do so. Hank whispered in her ear that he could only imagine Wolverine in this situation, causing her to laugh more. They were told that was "good" and now to look at each other.

Hank locked eyes with her and immediately had her in a spell. She could remember the very first time she had looked into those blue eyes, that day in Xavier's office. How far they had come since then…he was so dear to her and she wanted no one else in her life if he could not be there. Adore was not a word big enough for how she felt.

The thought crossed her mind before she processed it. She loved him. Every part of her loved him and would die without him.

She pulled away from that strong gaze, overwhelmed with the power of her feelings. She heard the photographer declare they were perfection and Soren promised he would send prints to Hank.

"Let's go," Hank whispered to her, his lips touching her ear and sending a thrill down her spine. The sound of the words in his deep purr promised that the night was not yet over.

* * *

The MRD was well aware that to sweep in and arrest mutants and mutant-lovers at a gallery would be suicide. If there was anything the American people loved it was their freedom of expression, and even if it was for mutants all hell would break loose if they disrupted that.

But there was nothing stopping from watching from a nearby building.

The man handed the binoculars to the solider next to him. "Harlson. Third floor, sixth window from the right."

The solider saw a couple sitting in the windowsill, completely absorbed in each other.

"Does he look familiar?"  
"He's Dr. Henry McCoy, sir."

"Do we have a relationship on record for him?"  
"He has been seen with the current female frequently but there has been no confirmation of their relations."

"Look closely, Harlson. What would you say that look on her face is, exactly?"

"Affection."

"Not just affection, Harlson. Love."

The solider lowered the binoculars and gave him a questioning look. "Sir?"

"Everyone has something they will go after at any cost."

* * *

Izabelle's laughter disrupted the quiet fall night. Hank had insisted on not letting her know where they were going and was currently carrying her through the wood behind the school.

He gently set her down and gestured sweepingly. "Ta da!"

Izabelle gasped, amazed. In the middle of the trees there was a clearing and in the clearing, lit by candles, was a lovely birthday cake and a bottle of wine on a picnic blanket. Her camera was nearby and through the trees stars glittered down on them.

"I made the cake myself. Then I talked some of the ladies into fixing it, but I did make it!"

Izabelle laughed, grateful for the levity. She was losing her head and heart rapidly and it was all too much for her.

The cake was fairly good considering baking was not among Hank's huge list of accomplishments. Being a photographer at heart she could not resist taking pictures of every inch of the scene, and him as well, as they talked.

"Hand it to me!"

"Why?"

"Come on!" He motioned for her to hand him the camera and she gave it to him. He moved around her for some moments before finally taking a picture. Looking at it he took another, closer to her. Then, with a mischievous grin, he leaned directly over her, causing her to smile up at him.

"Let me see!" she demanded, standing.

"I don't know. You may try to delete the picture and then I would be very sad indeed."

Izabelle began to move in on him slyly. "And why might I want to do that?"

"Women are so odd about these things. You never know really." He was grinning at her. They both knew what was going to happen next but it was amusing to act as though they did not.

She jumped at him and he dodged away laughing. Her bare feet flitted through the cool grass as she attempted again. He leapt over her completely bounding off a tree in mid air.

"Cheater!" she called after him.

He laughed but let his guard down for a moment, thinking that he was free for now. So Izabelle decided to take advantage of the moment and lunge at him. Had it not been for the moss-covered log out of his peripheral vision, he would have been fine. As it was, the log caught him below the knee and he slammed to the ground, landing hard on his side but protecting the camera.

Izabelle was laughing very hard as she came over to see if he was all right.

"You're not clear yet," Hank laughed and tugged her down as well. She gave a high pitched shriek and he caught her in his arms to protect her from injury. She landed gently on top of him. Izabelle looked up into his blue furred face and the laughter quietly faded from her lips. She knew the expression he was giving her and she did not resist returning it.

Cautiously and gently, Hank sat up, setting her inside his crossed legs. Their faces were so close together and her eyes were luminous in the low light. Leaning forward, he closed the distance between their lips.

Her lips met his, warm and dry. He felt her arms wrap around him. Their lips met again, with more intensity. He began to pull her closer to him but her face jerked away suddenly and she jumped up, walking a few paces from him. His heart sank as he stood; it had been too much too soon.

What he least expected was what happened next. She stopped walking, paused, and then Izabelle rushed back to him, her mouth crashing onto his like a breaking wave. He held her to him tightly as she kissed him deeply and fiercely. He returned her passion completely, wrapping his arms around her waist and running his hands over the warm skin on her exposed back. Thought was drowned out and her fingers worked through his hair. They kissed fervently, as if making up for all the kisses they had missed to that moment.

Painfully and abruptly he was holding nothing but air and he was no longer drinking in her kisses. The force with which she shoved him away surprised him. She stood, a yard away from him, with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hank. I…I just can't."

She took off through the woods and he did not follow her.

* * *

After he had finished destroying several shrubs, Hank calmed down enough to begin to process what had just happened.

He had kissed her.

That was enough to send a surge of testosterone through his body. He rubbed his hands violently over his face, trying to stick with the original train of thought.

Then what?

Then she had stopped him. That was almost to be expected now that he thought about it. But what happened next?

She flew back into his arms and kissed him. Something about that struck him and he leapt up into a tree branch to think.

If she had wanted to stop, to have nothing to do with any of that, why did she then come back to him? And why, of all the reactions possible, did she kiss him with such passion?

He shifted in the tree, now hanging upside down.

It was only to be expected that after a nice evening and some wine, any person kissed in the heat of the moment might return the affections. But her second reaction belied something more than being caught up.

She had deliberately returned to him. She had wanted this.

But why the sudden change of heart?

It struck him and he dropped to the ground, charging off in a run through the trees.

No change of heart, but rather interference of the mind and of doubt.

* * *

Izabelle paced, tears streaming down her round cheeks. What would she do now? What would she do?

Flashes of kissing Hank cross-fired in her mind, causing her to shake her head viciously. She tried to sit but instantly she was standing and pacing again.

Everything she wanted had been offered her and she had refused it. She should have seen this coming. She _did_ see it coming and for a moment she threw caution to the wind. But that was not the reality of her life.

It felt as if every part of her were breaking. Why not? Why could she not have what she wanted? But she had embedded the belief that it was impossible too deeply in herself to simply throw it away in a moment.

Someone knocked on her door and she tried to collect herself. She could not even imagine his reaction.

"Izabelle…?"

"Please just go away," she managed, her voice quaking.

On the other side of the door Hank's stomach rolled. She was crying and he had not expected that. What did _that_ mean?

"Izabelle, we must talk." His voice was a murmur.

"There is nothing to talk about."

His response was immediate, "If you did not want this, why did you kiss me?"

He had not expected her to actually be at the door so he jumped when it flew open.

"What do you want from me?" She hissed at him, trying very hard not to wake the others on the floor. "I kissed you. I have wanted to kiss you since the night the MRD broke into the school." She found that once she got going she could not quite stop. "You have taken over every corner of my mind. I love you! But none of this matters! We cannot be together!"

Her eyes glittered with fat, unshed tears and she looked quickly away from him. That was why she was crying. He felt lightheaded, hearing her say she loved him.

"We could! But you will not!"

"Fine then! I will not!"

Neither noticed the faces that had suddenly melded through the shadows in the hallway. Jubilee and Kitty had been awake when they had heard the whispered conversation and the final exclamations drew their attention. Kitty fazed them only slightly through the wall and they proceeded to watch the events play out.

"We can make this work," Hank pleaded, taking her hands in his own. She was afraid, and she had every right to be. But there was a certain point where you must go forward or crumble and break, and they had reached that point.

She tugged a hand loose and bit at her nails, staring through his chest, even though they were already as short as they could possibly be. Her words came out in a hoarse whisper: "But you will forget me."

"But now you are the only thing I can remember, for I love you as well." And for the second time that night he kissed her. Sweeping and deep and sincere. And to his profound joy he felt her pull him to her and kiss him back.

After a moment their lips parted, holding each other close, and Izabelle turned her bright hazel eyes into his own. To his relief, she smiled.

"I had hoped I could tell you all of that in a much better way."

"To just hear it from your lips is the best way I could imagine."

Kitty grabbed Jubilee and hauled her back into their room before she lunged out into the hall. The two women regressed about ten years and were reduced to fits of giggles as they high fived each other. Amnesia and Beast were together at last!

In the hall, a shy newness was setting in between the new couple. Izabelle could not stop grinning and twisting her hands about in front of her.

Quietly, Hank took her hand and kissed it. "Until tomorrow, my Izabelle."

She blushed furiously and nodded emphatically. "Until then." She watched him disappear down the hall before closing her own door.

Neither had ever gone to bed happier.

* * *

_:-D Very squee worthy I hope!  
What do you think? _


	9. Chapter 9: The Mark

**Chapter 9: The Mark**

When Izabelle woke she could hardly believe that any of the night before had ever happened. But there was her dress, hanging over the closet door where she had left it, a sign that it really had happened. But maybe Hank… maybe that had been a dream.

She was brushing her hair when she heard a knock on her door. No one ever came to her room in the morning. What could it possibly be?

When she looked into the hall she was greeted with the sight of Hank, grinning and leaning on the wall. He had one hand behind his back.

"I thought I would come by and … say hello."

Smiling shyly, she moved aside and he came in. After the door clicked shut she turned to speak to him but was caught up in a kiss.

She melted. So it really was true. They really were together.

He smiled over his glasses at her, his arm still around her waist. "How good it is to finally be able to do that," he murmured.

She moved away a little. She was overjoyed for all of it but it was still unusual for her; she would need time for it to grow into total comfort.

"I thought I would bring you something to commemorate a wonderful evening."

Before she could protest a pot of flowers was placed in her hands.

"They're gorgeous." The little blooms were blue and white with yellow centers.

"But do you know what they are?" His voice hinted at mischief and so she gave him a curious look. "Forget-me-nots."

The significance was not lost on her and for a moment her eyes glassed over with tears.

She coughed a few times to regain her voice and thanked him deeply. It was all she could think to do.

He hugged her briskly, rubbing her back. She caught his face and kissed him this time.

"Hungry?"

She laughed. "Everyone will stare."

"Perfect. I find it is always so much easier to eat when everyone is watching you," Hank teased.

After much teasing and finally after picking her up and setting her in the hall, they reached the dining hall.

They may have been able to pass for normal but Hank was not going to act normal, if nothing else to tease her shyness. He always had a hand on her, whether her back, arm, or her hand in his. She moved them farther down the long table to get them a bit further from Jean, Kitty, and Jubilee who watched them closely.

Halfway through their breakfast, the new couple was interrupted. Scott burst into the dining room, announcing they needed some research done immediately.

"Duty calls," Hank almost apologized. She wasn't entirely sure what he would want with all eyes watching so she squeezed his hand and nodded.

The room watched as he placed his dishes in the basket for them and then began to follow Scott out. But at the door he stopped. Izabelle's heart missed a beat. He was going to do something crazy; she could feel it.

"One moment, Scott." He turned in the door and looked dead at her. He bounded up over the table, grazing it to push off toward the ceiling. Using the hanging lights, he swung over to the light just above her. Dropping, he stood next to her chair.

"I would not want to miss my goodbye kiss." And having said that he bent and gently kissed her.

Giggles erupted from the females watching and there were a few cheers scattered down the table.

After he left Izabelle could see the X-Men in the room "casually" moving toward her seat. She could not help but smile as she heard, "So how did it happen?"

* * *

"So how did it happen?" was a question Trish Tilby was asking herself at the same moment though with an entirely different tone.

She had been in makeup when the authorities had come for her. She was not a mutant. What could they possibly want with her?

She had been detained and placed in a holding room with one-way glass. This was not good at all.

From the other side of the glass the man watched her sweat it out. "She has no idea why she is here does she?"

Harlson answered promptly, "She was not informed and she has been estranged from Dr. McCoy for over a year now."

"Not Doctor, Harlson. He's a mutant." The man paused and ran a hand over his iron grey hair. "Let's find out what we can."

Trish was not sure if she was glad or even more afraid to see a man enter the room. He was in military gear though it was uncertain what rank or even what division. His uniform was not one she had seen before.

"Patricia Tilby?"

"What is this about?" Her voice sounded high in ears. The man ignored her. He looked to be about fifty and he was not exceptionally tall but broadly built.

"Were you ever involved with Henry Philip McCoy?" He laid out two pictures before her. One before the transformation and one after. He hoped that it might spark memory in her and get her to cooperate.

Trish picked up the picture of Hank before. It was also the image he used with his image-inducer. He was so handsome…if only he could have always been that way.

"I was, at one time. This is hardly any of your business though."

"Do you know what the MRD _is_, Miss Tilby? This is not only my business, this is my job."

He heard her sharp intake of breath. She knew who they were but must not have realized she was currently in their custody. She would co-operate now. From what they could find about her she was not one to go down with the ship.

"What do you want to know?"

"What are your current relations with McCoy, codename Beast?"

"None."

"You were seen talking, one might even say flirting, with him at a play recently." He slid a photo across to her. She paled.

"It does not matter. He is engaged. Or so she claimed."

"_She?_"

Trish paused. This was dangerous and she could tell. While she and Hank hadn't parted well, she had no intention of ensnaring him with the MRD.

"The woman he was with."

"Her name?"

"I don't remember."

He raised an eyebrow. He slid another picture to her. Hank and Izabelle in a window laughing. Her pulse jumped. This photo was taken from some distance; Hank was being watched. Or Izabelle was…

"You seem to recognize her," the man purred to her.

"It could be. Bobs are such a common hairstyle right now."

"She said they were engaged," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "Did you believe them?"

"Not even slightly." He could tell by her tone that this was a true answer. She really had not believed they were engaged.

"Why would they lie to you?"

"To get rid of me. I am a threat."

"And even now you protect them from justice?"

Trish caught his eye with a hard edge in it. He had hit a nerve. "Hank and I may no longer be together, but he does not need justice done to him. He brings justice."

When the man did not respond she rose. "Are you pressing any charges?"

"Of course not. You are not our concern. We only wanted to speak with you."

"Then I am leaving." She was able to leave without anyone stopping her. When she reached the street she realized she was shaking. Nothing good would come of this. Nothing at all.

Back inside, the man clapped Harlson on the back.

"We've got our mark. You know what to do."

* * *

_A) THANK YOU to my reviewers! :-D _

_B) it's a mini-chapter but it seemed fitting after all of the excitement. _

_C) The next couple chapters will be segmented so that each part is it's own month of their relationship. Hopefully that will be fun. _

_Reviews please! _


	10. Snippets of Time: September and October

**Snippets of Time: September and October**

* * *

**September**

Hank was surprised to find a large gilded envelope on his desk. However, once he read the return address, he realized what was within and set out to find Izabelle.

September was nearly over and they had been together for a few weeks now and the general opinion was "it's about time!" It had been odd having a relationship very much in the public eye of the school, especially with Beast as one of the original X-Men. But in general, once the excitement died down, it seemed very natural.

Izabelle was surprised to find Hank hanging around outside her Junior English class when she left.

"Look what Soren sent us," he smiled, waving the envelope in front of her.

With an excited squeal she plopped her books on the hall floor and tore open the envelope. Glossy prints slid out into her hands: close ups, wide angle, black and white. Each print served as a reminder of that night, their affection for each other clearly written on their faces.

Hank nuzzled her neck affectionately, looking at the pictures over her shoulder. "They are lovely."

"Can you imagine if we hadn't…?" Izabelle let the question hang but her meaning was clear.

"I imagine he took a leap of faith," Hank laughed.

Izabelle grinned back at him. Looking back, it seemed inevitable. "Which do you like best?"

Hank singled out a black and white glossy of Izabelle.

"But you aren't even in that one!"

"It's who I enjoy seeing. I have no desire to look at myself."

Izabelle smiled and elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Let's see if we can find some frames."

* * *

The House floor debates had officially begun. The talk of a detention and retroactive warrant act pertaining to mutants had finally been brought to a more official level.

This was not just a matter of how people felt about mutants. It was a matter of defining what kind of country the US would become and deciding if Americans truly meant that the Constitution applied to all people within the country.

Or so Hank was planning on arguing. Hank had been invited because of his reputation, for both his intellect and his work to maintain peaceful relations with humans. He was well respected and now was when it would pay off.

He had asked Izabelle to join him and she had been very reluctant to do so. She knew herself and her fast temper could be a serious shortcoming when thrown in with powerful people who hated anything related to mutants.

"And how would it look," he called to Izabelle, who was perched on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to finish getting ready, "if I were to show up without my lady love? If I don't have her support how can I ask for that from others."

"You have my support. But _I_ don't have any self-control."

"Nonsense. You resisted my alluring charms for quite some time." He poked his head out from the bathroom, fiddling with his bow tie, and waggled his eyebrows at her. He quickly ducked back in as a pillow bounced off the doorframe.

"Alright. Let's go!" He began for the door but was drawn to a stop. Izabelle was scowling at him.

"You're not going like that are you?" Her voice was flat and cold.

He looked himself up and down. He thought he had done pretty well. She was wearing a grey gown and he matched her, but not it an overwhelming way. His hair was combed, his shoes were shined, and he even had a pocket square.

"You're wearing your image inducer, Hank."

"Oh… Well of course I am. It would do no good for me to be arrested on my way to debate the arrests now would it?" He tried to give it a joking tone but she still scowled at him. He held back a sigh. "Not now, Izabelle. Please?"

"You may as well stay here if that's how you plan to present yourself."

"And what would you suggest?" He was annoyed but she didn't care.

"If you aren't going to be who you truly are then you are just proving their point. And you will even be proving it while you talk to them about why they are wrong. You are declaring that you don't want to be a mutant."

"Incorrect. I am declaring I do not wish to look like a mutant in climes that are hostile to such."

"You never cared before. I don't –"

"Izabelle!"

Her eyes grew huge. She could count on one hand the amount of times he had yelled at her in the months that she had known him.

Hank took a deep breath and braced himself against the wall. "I do not care. Truly. I have been through worse. But you… You're _with_ me. And after tonight everyone will know that." He sat next to her, taking her hand in his own. His familiar blue eyes met hers. "That's danger enough. I won't have you beaten and thrown into an MRD cell. Not for anything."

She let her head sink to his shoulder. Her face rested against his neck and she felt the familiar fur, beneath the projected image. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I did not wish to hurt your pride. I do realize you are a strong capable mutant with massive potential within your mutations, but…I worry."

Izabelle smiled up at him though he didn't look at her directly. Only Hank would avoid showing his own concern to protect someone else's pride. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood."

He smiled at her ruefully. "I agree with you by the way. I will turn it off once we are safely inside."

She blushed, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have –"

"Nonsense," he chuckled. "You keep me from hiding." He stepped back for a moment and looked her over. "And you look stunning."

They kissed for a moment until Hank glanced at the clock. "Time to head into the storm…"

* * *

The next day Izabelle woke up in a funk. Things had gone well enough. The tides had been against them, but his speech had been considered seriously. Like the case in _To Kill A Mockingbird_, even if they didn't win the fact that they made the House debate and reconsider was a step in the right direction. Or so Hank had argued; Izabelle had just been frustrated. She smiled to herself, pouring milk over her cereal. Hank was like Atticus. She loved that about him.

She looked up and he was standing over her smiling. She leaned up and kissed him. "Morning."

A look of confusion was clear on his blue features. "I'm sorry. I think you have me confused with someone else."

The laughter died on her lips when she realized he was serious. He was not looking at her as if he knew her and he had the rigid posture he kept around strangers.

Hank saw the light in the woman's eyes die and felt bad. Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else? He didn't know how that could be, but it was possible.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, taking her cereal with her as she left. "I must have."

She could have argued with him but it hardly seemed worth it. It had been a very long time, to her at least, since she had faded out so she supposed it was due. But it was like someone throwing water in her face. It had come on without any warning and she felt suddenly depressed and isolated.

Later in the afternoon she finally worked up the nerve to try to get him to recognize her. He had told her to try so often she could say it along with him in the same tone. He insisted that it would never get better without trying, without training his mind.

She found him in the lab working on samples for Wolverine.

"Hank?"

He looked up and again did not recognize her, not even as the woman who kissed him that morning. That was the one advantage: no one would remember her missteps and how embarrassing they were.

"Can I help you?"

She resisted leaving right then and instead pulled out an envelope that he had placed in her bedside table 'for such occasions.' She handed it to him.

Hank recognized his own handwriting and gave her a curious look. The woman's huge hazel eyes pleaded with him so he opened it without question. She watched his eyes dart across the page and then he looked at the photo in the envelope.

Beast looked long at the picture and she could see understanding flicker through his face. He looked at her, and the picture again. Before speaking again slowly.

"Izabelle?"

She nodded at him. He reached over slowly and took her hand. Their hands knew each other and he smiled.

In the next thirty-six hours of the fade out, Izabelle had to remind him several times of the dinner he had planned to go to with her. It was embarrassing and she felt horribly rude, as if she were inviting herself to someone else's party, but she knew if she did not he would be disappointed once he did remember her.

She felt conflicted. On the one hand she was angry at him for not remembering her. On the other, was it really fair to expect some sort of immunity from her mutation? He tried to encourage her by having a plan for when it happened, but all the work still fell to her, and it weighed on her.

* * *

**October**

Logan was looking for Hank. Training had been harder on the New Recruits than he had intended and some of them needed stitching up.

His mind wandered as he looked for his blue friend in the usual places. Hank had sure been easier to find before he and Izabelle got together. Not that he wasn't glad for them; Hank deserved to be with someone who made him happy. But it was always odd having a couple in the mansion. It made one more hesitant to just walk into a room where they might be.

Logan could hear voices in the lab and walked there purposefully, recognizing Hank's bass rumble. But something in the tone of their voices brought him to a stop outside with his hand on the door. He listened.

"Are you sure?" Izabelle's voice was low and husky. Logan did not have a great view of her due to the cabinets by the door but he could see her from the waist up. She had taken a bit of a beating during training and that was probably why she was here.

"Only if you feel ready. But now _is_ as good a time as ever. We have privacy." Hank stroked her hair, shirtless as far as Logan could tell. That was unusual…

"I'm just nervous…"

"Not to worry. We will find what works." Hank's voice was soothing and the look he was giving Izabelle began to raise suspicions in Wolverine's mind. They couldn't be talking about…

"I'm ready if you are." Izabelle kissed his hand and Hank walked out of his line of vision.

There were the sounds of someone rooting around in a drawer and a triumphant sound from Hank. "Here's one!"

Logan watched through the gap in the door as blue hands ran across Izabelle's torso.

Izabelle leaned forward and she gasped, looking at Hank's hips. "It's huge!"

Hank's voice took on the particular quality of someone joking with a lover and his voice lowered. "It has always done the trick before."

His hands lingered on her pale skin and then slowly and gently lifted her shirt over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

Logan's eyes were bugging out of his head and he clenched his eyes shut as fast as he could. He could hear Hank gently caress Izabelle's bare skin as she let out a small sigh.

This was not something Logan wanted to be party to. But if he tried to leave now Hank would almost certainly hear him. He was trapped.

He heard Hank whisper something to her and he could not block out the image it created in his mind's eye.

Then Izabelle began to moan.

"Put your hands on my hips. It will help, I promise," Hank coached.

Logan heard her sharp intake of breath before the moaning resumed.

"Just lean forward a bit more…"

Logan couldn't handle it anymore. Decency be damned! He threw the door open with a slam and unleashed his fury on the two of them verbally. "This is a lab! If you can't contain yourselves, take it somewhere else! Have a little…"

He trailed off in mid-sentence. Izabelle was indeed without a shirt, but her undergarments were still in place, as well as her pants. And Hank was dressed in his X-Men uniform; that explained the bare chest.

Izabelle was gripping Hank's hips with her forehead pressed against his chest, though now she had twisted it around to stare at Logan. Hank held a long, thick needle in one hand trailing black thread, paused in midair as he stared at Logan in blank surprise. A gash trailed from the corner of Izabelle's neck to the small of her back. Stitches worked down half of the cut.

Slowly things snapped into place in Wolverine's mind. What they had said…the moaning… He stood in the middle of the room, embarrassed and stunned. Without pausing to explain, he turned on his heel and left, trying very hard to look as if his job here were done.

Izabelle twisted her head back around. What had _that_ been about? But what had he said exactly? One advantage of being in control of memory was that her own memory was excellent. _"If you can't contain yourselves…"_

With a widening grin she began to understand. As she replayed the words she and Hank had said to one another it was not hard to realize what Logan had heard. Through peals of laughter she explained to Hank what she had just realized. Their laughter carried Izabelle through the rest of the stitches.

* * *

_Bwahaha! :-D October was inspired by AlwaysFidelius. _

_Thank you to Mantisfera, Suma99, and adelphe24 for the reviews!_


	11. Snippets of Time: November and December

**Snippets of Time: November and December**

**November**

Hank had hoped that their first night together would have gone better than this. He rubbed at his temples and Izabelle's hazel eyes watched him with sympathy.

They had gone to the new seafood restaurant in NYC. Things had gone well. Then Izabelle had suggested ice cream, her absolute favorite dessert.

Hank groaned and she took his head in her lap, brushing the hair gently out of his eyes and tracing his defined eyebrows with her fingertips.

The first sign of any problems had been swollen lips. Izabelle had always liked Hank's slightly fuller pout, but it was bordering on absurd. Then hives kicked in and even Hank could not ignore that something was seriously wrong.

Izabelle had rushed him to the mansion as fast as she was able, but it was risky. They couldn't take him to a hospital for obvious reasons. And she couldn't speed or stick out while driving. So it had still taken a while and a few stops for Hank to retch in a field.

Even Izabelle could rule out food poisoning; it was way too soon for that. She had managed to get him to bed and grabbed an epi-pen. It had to be some sort of freak allergy. Currently he was drifting in and out of sleep, an improvement.

Hank watched her from below heavy eyelids. This was truly embarrassing. It seemed as if for every five successful dates they had there had to be one calamitous one. She had nursed him through the night and now into the tiny hours of morning, still in her dress and heels, Googling possible causes of the sickness on his computer nearby.

Izabelle eased his head back down into the pillows. "I think I know what's wrong, Henry."

Hank could not help but smile at his given name. "Please do tell. Then we can ensure this embarrassment never reoccurs."

"It seems that there are rare occasions where people will have severe allergic reactions to the combination of seafood and dairy products."

Hank propped himself up to stare at her. "Surely you jest."

She suppressed a laugh. "It _is_ unusual but it fits."

His strong hand slowly drifted up to gently stroke her face. "You should sleep. You've been up all night."

"I won't leave you here though."

Hank scooted as far to one side of his huge bed as he could get. Without a word it was clear the solution he was suggesting.

With a broad smile, Izabelle cuddled up next to him, letting him tuck covers around her. He was a furnace from the fever and she soon rolled away from him but for the first moments they drifted into sleep together.

* * *

Sharp aggressive knocks woke the couple. Hank still looked sickly but better than the night before. Izabelle's hair was a nest of silliness, flat on one side and standing up on the other.

They both lay still hoping it would go away, but the knocking resumed. Hank indicated for her to stay where she was and opened the door, filling it and blocking her from view.

It was Logan.

"Suit up. We have robot prototypes we need to take care of."

"Now?" Hank rarely if ever protested a mission when called to by Wolverine, but he was still sickish, hadn't slept more than a few hours, and hadn't eaten in quite a while.

"At the Blackbird in one hour."

"Could this be delayed? I –" He was cut off.

"According to Forge we need to get outta here as soon as possible. I gotta go wake the others." Logan left, not stopping to listen to arguments or notice the weary look Hank sent his retreating form. Logan was not intentionally ignoring it, but it was Hank. What problems could there possibly be?

When Hank turned around, Izabelle was wide awake and standing close behind him.

"You aren't going are you?"

"You heard him."

"But you're sick and you haven't really slept."

"I am sure our fearless leader would take that into account."

"I'm sure he wouldn't! It's Logan, not the Professor. He doesn't think about those things."

Beast sighed and sat on the edge of his bed taking her hands in his. "This is what I have been called upon to do. Would you ask me to not do it?"

Izabelle could not look him in the eyes. She knew what she would see there. She wanted very much to ask him not to go; he would stay if she asked him to. But controlling him like that…

"At least make him fly so you can sleep."

* * *

They had left hours ago and now the broadcasts were rolling in. She hadn't paid attention to what Logan had told Hank until after they had left. Robot prototypes. Four had apparently been assembled outside the city, on the same side as the school.

Her nails were nubs and she was now combing her fingers over and over through her hair. Tabbitha distractedly took Izabelle's hands in her own, not taking her eyes off of the screen. The X-Men fought the "Sentinel" as best as they could but Wolverine was really the only one who could do damage to them quickly.

Izabelle found herself hating Kurt; she could not tell if the blue movement she saw was Nightcrawler or Beast. This was an unusual fight. They were always in some danger or other but the scales were clearly against them this time.

Sam sat on her other side, tense and watching her almost as closely as she was watching the TV.

Blue flashed and she twitched. It was definitely Hank. The robot swung but he was faster, grabbing, rending, and throwing part of its massive hand. The Sentinel stared at its torn hand for a moment and then, with shocking speed, backhanded Hank into a shed. Beast had been busy trying to reorient himself; things swam in his vision when he moved too quickly. He went flying and there was a cracking sound as he burst through the shed wall. Seconds passed and she did not see him walk out of the rubble.

It was all too much for Izabelle. She knew she had "lame" powers. She knew she couldn't really fight. But to just sit here while he was destroyed before her eyes…that would not happen. It was the same fear driven instinct that had led her to the basement the night the school was invaded.

Sam caught her in the hall. She wrenched free from him and he caught her in his arms. She kicked him in the side, knocking him over, and threw open the front door. Nasty autumn rain pounded down but she did not stop. In a moment Sam tackled her, taking the fall with his shoulder and wrapping his arms around her.

"I have to go! I have to help!" Her shrieking was unintelligible for the most part but the dogged thought that she could save him was clear.

"If Beast can't do anything 'bout it then you surely can't, Bella!" He was bear hugging her, and talking into her ear. He wrapped a long leg around both of hers to stop her viciously swinging feet.

"But I have to help! He could…he could…" A shudder passed through her and the fight seemed to go out of her all at once. When she and Hank had begun, when all this had started, it had not even occurred to her to worry about death. Things had been safer, if only marginally. And now…

Sam helped her up. They were covered in mud from the flowerbeds they had rolled into and both were soaked through. Tears ran silently down her round cheeks, cleaning paths through the mud, and she buried her face in Sam's shoulder.

* * *

Beast had taken a beating worse than any of the others. They all were mangled and worse for wear, but Hank was brought out on a stretcher. Blood matted his blue fur, more red visible than any other color. A gash on his forehead made her stomach roll over, and she could see white of bone through a missing chunk on his shin. His face was drained of color and his sides were bruised.

As she and Iceman finished cleaning him up anger had replaced sorrow. This never should have happened. Beast never should have even gone; the Professor would not have asked him to go. Not weak and sick. Others were still in the med lab when she came down there, some just now being tended to or in Wolverine's case just hanging around.

The look she sent him was pure poison and Logan was in no mood for moody girls.

"What seems to be the problem, Amnesia?"

She gritted her teeth, smoothing out Hank's fur as she stood over him. He was drugged and sleeping. "You did this to him."

Logan pushed off the wall and squared his shoulders. All attention was on the two of them now.

"That is a mighty bold claim."

"He was sick. He could hardly move and you made him go." She still didn't look at anyone but Beast. Her voice shook with the emotion she was trying to control.

"And if he never told me? You confused about my powers? I don't read minds!"

"He tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen!" She spun on him, her face red.

"And how would you know?"

"I was with him all night! He was really sick, Logan!"

"Hank can take care of himself. You're outta line." Logan was angry now. He didn't hit girls but if he did…

"Clearly he can. Especially when he's left no other option," she bit back sarcastically. She pointed at him, stitched and lying prone.

"Hank's seen worse."

Izabelle's face glowed with anger. "That excuses nothing! He was weak and he had hardly slept. That fighting was some of the weakest I have ever seen from him. You should have protected him and kept him back. Just because he's seen worse does not mean it isn't bad NOW!"

There was total silence. Bobby stared. Few people could pull off talking to Logan like that.

"If you had been even a touch ill, Hank would have noticed and he would have helped," she finished, choking back tears.  
"I didn't know," Logan growled.

"Maybe you need to learn to pay attention."

* * *

When Izabelle awoke the next day, she raced down the corridor toward the lab. Voices caught her attention. Hank's voice was one of them and she relaxed, stopping to listen.

"She does mean well."

"Gave me one hell of a guilt trip."

"I cannot imagine that to be an easy task."

"No. She was right though, Hank. Glad yer okay. Tell me next time."

Izabelle was caught off guard when the door opened and Logan walked out. They looked at one another for a moment and some understanding seemed to pass between them. She darted past him and was greeted with the welcome sight of Hank awake and doing well.

"Miss me?" He teased. His stitched up face grinned at her and she hugged him tightly, relief flooding her emotion-wearied mind and heart.

* * *

WHAM!

Izabelle's shoulder dug a small trench in the field she had formerly been standing in. Logan stepped up to her as she brushed the dirt off of her sweaty face.

"Get up," he growled.

Though there was mutual understanding about what had happened with Hank, Logan did not see it as his obligation to be forgiving about her calling him out in front of the X-Men. She was his junior by many decades and in experience. A couple months ago she could have laid low and avoided him. Now he was her teacher in the Danger Room. Hence, she was getting face-fulls of dirt as he drilled her on kicks and blocking kicks.

"No," she coughed. She was winded and spitting out mud.

Logan crouched next to her. "You tellin' me no?"

"Yes, I am." She looked dead into his eyes. He was analyzing her and she could tell. "You can kill me if you like but you know I've hit my limit. I can't go anymore."

She did not look away and he was the first to break their gaze. He held a hand out to her as he stood and she took it. He left without speaking to her, pulling his hood off as he went.

"Class dismissed," he called over his shoulder. The other mutants there filed out, mostly girls. It would be a while before a shower opened up and she was covered in dirt.

Izabelle sighed and looked up at the Control Room.

"FooooOOOOOooooorrrrrgggggE!" she bellowed, letting a grin slide through. She adored harassing the somewhat awkward mechanically-minded mutant. And she knew he didn't mind; he had sisters and he teased right back.

A head of black hair popped over the panel, peering down at her. "My, my," his voice radiated around her. "Somebody's dirty."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Can I get a pond?"

"Sure thing. But I'm rerouting some things up here. What shows up will stay for the next couple hours. I've gotta put in a forest for the X-Men."

"Don't hit me with a tree!"

Forge mimed consideration and hit a few buttons. Izabelle found herself standing in a forest with a small cool pond in front of her. She silently blessed Forge and washed off in the water. Irritation crept back as she absently headed for the exit. She was exhausted and dirty and she still had classes to teach. Not to mention every part of her hurt, from being landed on multiple times.

Hank saw her approaching as he entered the Danger Room. His cheerful smile was enough to speed up her pace; she was not in the mood for cheeriness right now.

Hank noticed and caught her up in his arms. "Hello, my love! And how are you on this sublime, splendiferous, spectacular day?"

She moved back from him, glowering, "Let's see. Logan is making sure I eat dirt at every opportunity as punishment for yelling him. How do you _think_ I'm doing?"

Hank nodded knowingly. "He'll cool off. We've all been there. What were you working on?"

"Kicks and blocking kicks."

"Show me." His eyes twinkled at her mischievously.

"Forget it."

Izabelle tried to step around him so me moved as well, blocking her. He knew he was bigger and faster, so there was no way she could get around him.

"I'm not in the mood, Hank. Let me go."

"Show me a kick. I have never been allowed the pleasure of seeing you spar." It was true. He and Izabelle's schedules had been worked out so one was busy when the other was training. The reason: distraction. The last time Izabelle had been at a training of Hank's he had been clocked in the head with a falling beam.

Izabelle sighed loudly, but he was in too good of a mood to back off yet. She just needed some provocation…

"Where are you in such a hurry to get to?"

"The shower," she pointed at herself as if that explained it all. She watched his white toothed grin spread even wider.

"I have fond memories regarding the Danger Room shower. I seem to recall finding a certain lady's garments because of –" He had been so caught up in his exaggerated musings that he had not noticed her leg. She caught him in the side throwing him off balance. He stumbled into a tree, catching it for balance. "That, Izabelle, is a powerful kick. Bravo."

He cuffed her, gently for him, and sent her sprawling. As Izabelle watched him beam at her she finally caught on to what it was he wanted from her. Her professorial, uptight Henry McCoy PhD, was being playful. She dove at him, catching his stomach with her head. He tossed her as if she weighed nothing and took off through the trees.

She raced after him, feeling her cares lift off of her.

Hank was waiting silently in the trees as she ran below him. He dropped down on her, scooping her in his arms as he rolled. She was laughing now and a mock wrestling match began.

"I win," Hank declared at last, pinning her under him. Their eyes met and the mood began to shift. This was physically the closest they had ever been. He became intensely aware of the feeling of her body under his. She giggled and rolled over on top of him, smiling coyly. Her hair fluffed around her gorgeously and she was breathing heavily. Dirt smudged her nose and forehead, making her all the more adorable.

"I win," she breathed. Her hands subconsciously worked over his bare chest, feeling the muscles that rippled beneath the skin. She felt his hand wander to her thigh and the other to her waist. She felt suddenly conscious of the fact she was straddling him.

Their lips met with a ferocity unparalleled. Hank clutched her to him, feeling her legs and caressing her back and hips. Her lips wandered down over his neck and shoulder, combining kisses with soft nibbling and causing him to inhale sharply. Cautiously, he found the zipper at the throat of her uniform and when met with no resistance from her gently led it down toward her chest.

"Beast! Get over here, furball! We've got training"

Izabelle groaned loudly, falling limply against his chest. Hank tried to control his frustration and stood, lifting Izabelle to her feet.

"Beast!"

"Izabelle…I…."

"S'not your fault." She wouldn't make eye contact with him and mumbled. Her ears looked red enough to stop traffic.

"Are you…Would you…"

"I have classes until tonight and then…other things."

"I see." His heart fell. The moment was missed. She was sensitive about these things, a constant reminder of the need to move slowly in their relationship.

"You need to get out of here," she finally smiled at him, the humor of the situation taking over. "They might suspect."

"If only they had cause to." Her familiar blush at the comment made him smile as well. She bit her lip, hardly suppressing a secretive smile.

"Bye Hank."

He watched her retreat through the woods.

* * *

**December**

Snow had begun to fall in early November, bringing in Thanksgiving with a heavy white blanket. Christmas was no different.

Izabelle had hoped to sleep in. Her bed was cozy as opposed to the chill air in her room. Hank, however, had other plans.

"Wake up, sleepy!"

Izabelle's bleary first words to him were not exactly what he had hoped: "How did you get in here?"

"These fine claws are good for many things. Lockpicking for one."

Only her face poked out of the mountainous pile of covers that was her bed, as she rolled over. She scowled at him, shrieking as he turned on the lights and burrowing into the bed.

"Well, I suppose this fine breakfast will have to be eaten by someone else. Oh me. Oh my. But who would be willing to eat it?"

Izabelle took the bait and poked her face back out, squinting at him. Indeed, he had brought in two breakfast trays, one for each of them.

"I suppose I shall have to endure and consume the bounty myself." His voice was dripping with tease and temptation. He would eat them both too; he was a big man.

She pulled the covers down around her waist, still refusing to leave the bed, and held her arms out to him. He handed her the tray, stooping to kiss her forehead.

"You have the most terribly endearing bedhead I have ever seen. Against all logic and modern beauty conventions, I find this to be your most winning appearance."

Izabelle gave a short laugh and began to eat. All those words to say he thought she looked good in the morning. Only Hank, her Hank.

"You will need to see to your toilette faster than usual. I assumed you would have woken before," he looked over at the clock, "eleven."

"What's the rush? We're staying in for Christmas."

"Maybe." He grinned at her astonished look.

"You said-"

"And I lied. I wanted to surprise you."

Carefully setting the tray aside, she leaned over and socked him in the arm.

"What in the stars is that for?" He repressed his smile and looked over his glasses at her.

She rolled her eyes at him but did not try to hide her pleasure. If her biggest complaint was that her significant other surprised her with special plans and presents too often then she was a hugely spoiled woman.

* * *

Hank had totally outdone himself.

First there was ice-skating on a frozen pond she had never even noticed in the school's wood. He was much more graceful than she thought was fair, considering he was much bigger than her and she was not at all steady on the skates. He caught her over and over again, never letting her fall once and she smiled at him from under her mohawk snow hat.

When they returned Forge had set up a snowy hot spring in the Danger Room, and they joined the others who had stayed at the school for Christmas for a soak. When she left the dressing room, Izabelle found herself swept up in strong blue arms and hoisted onto Hank's back.

"To the banya!" He cried, tromping through the snow toward the others.

"Banya?"

"Ruso-Scandinavian tradition of sauna. Russified, it includes rolling in the snow to cool down."

He jokingly moved as if he would dump her in the snow and she squealed, hugging him tighter. He laughed and righted himself.

A handful of students and most of the X-Men greeted them as Hank gently let her down.

Jean playfully pinched Scott. "_You_ made me walk all the way out here."

"I thought I would just engage in another Finnish tradition: wife carrying."

"You married now?" Logan smiled, seeing Izabelle blush.

"Indeed we are not but Finish relationships rarely include marriage, so the term is fairly loose."

"So they just…carry their wives?" Scott had a befuddled look on his face.

"Competitively. You see-" and Hank began to explain the sport of wife carrying, including a time he himself was able to attend such an event.

Izabelle could not stop watching him. He was engaging and soon everyone was in stitches.

Hank was preoccupied with her as well. Now that they were together he allowed himself to admit that she had a deliciously curvy body.

They radiated affection and closeness. The others had no hard time seeing that they could not keep their eyes off of each other. Even though they had deliberately chosen places apart from each other, they drew each other close with secretive gazes.

Soon enough it was time for Christmas dinner. The group had agreed to all help by each preparing something for the meal. Izabelle had banned Hank from helping her since she was baking pie. This had not stopped him from showing up and starting a mini-flour-war though. Izabelle smiled to herself and squeezed his hand under the table. He returned the affection with a gentle kiss on the head.

Everyone was left to their own devices for the rest of the evening and Hank managed to persuade Izabelle to take a walk with him. The snow flakes were so absurdly big that it was some time before a full sentence other than girlish squealing and cooing came from Izabelle. Producing a thermos of hot mulled wine, Hank brought them to the balcony overlooking the cliffs and the woods.

"I've been waiting for the right moment." He produced a small box from the pocket of his sweater.

"As have I." Grinning Izabelle pulled a box from her coat.

Hank laughed. "I told you not to get me anything!"

"And I knew you were lying." She stuck her tongue out at him and handed him the box.

He shook his head but she could tell he was touched. It hadn't been easy to figure out what to get him and it had been even harder to get her hands on it.

Hank's mouth worked but words did not come out. He fingered the bound manuscript in the box, awed.

"How did you get this?"

"I remembered you said your early work was stolen in raids. They didn't destroy it. There may or may not be some people with memory problems in that particular office, but I thought you deserved it."

He hugged her tightly to him. "I feel my present is hardly worthy now."

She unwrapped the box to find another box, and another, and another. And within the fourth box there was a silver ring in the shape of yarn tied in a bow.

"Before the age when every gadget you owned served as an alarm, people would tie string around their finger to remind them of something. Or so people like to believe anyway."

She nodded brusquely and he began to worry. When he noticed a tear roll down her cheek he took her in his arms.

"I am sorry, Izabelle. I thought –"

"It's not that," she managed. She slid the ring easily onto her middle finger. "I…I haven't been with anyone for Christmas in a very long time."

Hank began to answer thinking he understood but she shook her head quickly.

"Not like that. I have…I've spent the last…many Christmases alone. Without any other person."

Hank's eyebrows shot up. "Why did you not say so? We could have-"

"No! It was perfect. Everything you've done. All perfect."

And with a soft smile she drew him to her in a kiss.

* * *

_The dairy and seafood thing is for real by the way. My dad and grandfather both had to go to the hospital on different occasions because of it. Weird indeed! _

_And the wife carrying is real too. :-)_

_Thanks to my reviewers! _


	12. Snippets of Time: January and February

**Snippets of Time: January and February **

* * *

**January**

Izabelle's stomach rolled as she kicked her feet in the air. She was perched on the edge of a stretcher and watching Hank very closely. Her lovely nails were now stubs and one was bleeding.

It had become much harder for her to control her powers. Something was wrong.

In training she could hardly convey a memory to Xavier, let alone begin to plant one in someone else's mind. She had taken even more of the serum and that had fixed it for a while but now things were even worse. So Hank was again running tests.

While it was the way they had met, this was the least favorite capacity of their relationship. Neither liked the medical/clinical side; it seemed distancing and it was hard for them to not become frustrated with each other.

After what seemed like ages, Hank finally turned to Izabelle and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?" her voice conveyed outright terror.

"It's not working anymore. Your body has become used to it. We will have to adapt it for more long term use."

The feeling Izabelle experienced was like being blasted by Sam; she could not breathe in or out as her lungs deadlocked.

Hank rushed to her and took her hand, soothing her. "Do not despair. We are halfway there already. We know what works."

"But to go through all of that again," she gulped out.

He hugged her and she let her head fall to his shoulder. "I thought this might happen but I thought we had more time. I will be most diligent in finding something of use."

Izabelle's head shot up and for a second he thought she had an idea. But the look on her face changed…

"You knew this would happen?" her voice was much quieter but did not convey any emotion. He rushed ahead blindly.

"Well, one can never know these things but I had an idea-"

She jerked her hand out of his and confusion flashed across his face. What was she upset about? He had been preparing on the side for the eventuality.

"So you did know?"

Her tone was dangerous so he gave her a straight answer. "Yes, I did."

"You knew…and you NEVER TOLD ME?" Her voice jumped to a shout unexpectedly. She had never really yelled at him before and he immediately became affronted.

"I did not feel there was any need to give you cause for extra alarm. I had things under control and – "

"I can't stop my fade outs, HENRY, do you call that control?" She jumped off of the stretcher and it skittered a little ways away. She was much scarier with her feet on the ground, even if she was short.

"There is truly no need for shouting, Izabelle." He pulled himself up to his full height subconsciously; he did not like being intimidated by her.

"This is the best moment for yelling I have EVER had in my LIFE!"

Hank reached out toward her thinking if he could hold her she might calm down, but he was greeted with a violent push in the chest.

"You had no right! You had no right to not tell me!"

"Incorrect," he snapped in a brittle tone. "As your doctor, it was my decision."

She stopped dead and stared at him like he was an idiot child. He could literally feel the fur standing up on the back of his neck and arms. That facial expression made him want to hit something.

"As my doctor?"

"Yes."

"So you're my doctor now? I was under the impression you and I were on far better terms than that."

"At any other time, yes. When it comes to these matters, I am your doctor." He could not quite figure out what her problem was with this, since it was perfectly logical, but her raving was getting on his last nerve.

"No, Hank! That's not how this works. If you are my lover, you're my lover one hundred percent of the time! And as my lover, you hid this from me!"

The tension of not knowing what was wrong with her, the fear of going back through testing, and the anger of Hank's hidden knowledge had created in her the perfect storm of fury. She was emotional enough that, when she did go off, it was with explosive force.

"I hid nothing from you. If you had asked, as you have now done – "

"You don't get to hold me one moment and treat me like an unattached object the next! If you had EVER once considered how this would make me feel, you would have TOLD ME! But you didn't!"

Her piercing shrieks echoed down the halls, reverberating as they faded.

In the silence that followed she whispered, choking back tears, "I had a right to know."

Hank was rigid with live fury. How dare she make such a scene and embarrass him like this? The whole school would be here now and every telepath in a mile would be clued in on their fight. He had a long, slow fuse but he finally had reached the end.

He walked slowly up to her and she was suddenly very aware of the fact he could literally kill her with one hand and no effort. He did not even look down at her but spoke to the air just above her head.

"You go to far. I weighed the options and found this best. If you are not capable of seeing this simple fact, then this discussion is irrelevant."

Izabelle crumpled inside. She had pushed too hard and now he was too angry to think about what she was saying.

She heard footsteps and without looking at him turned and dashed out of the door. She slammed into Wolverine and bounced off of him and the wall. Refusing to let him see her cry, she shoved his helping hand away from her and walk-jogged as fast as she could down the hall.

Wolverine watched her go in total confusion. She was really upset and he had heard her yelling, which was a first. There was a roar of anger from behind him and a bending, breaking, crumpling sound. Kicking the door open, alert and claws out, Logan's jaw dropped as he saw Hank, holding his head in his hands, and a decimated metal stretcher in a heap before him.

* * *

Izabelle had hidden away for the evening, now rolling into the blackness of night. Bobby had tried to come by and advocate for Hank and she had told him where to go and how to get there in rather limited vocabulary.

Kitty, at an advantage against locks, had brought her cocoa and no words, which made her feel better than anything else could have.

Izabelle was humiliated for losing her temper in such a huge way, but she could not get over the conviction that he had indeed been wrong. She forced herself not to dwell on it and not stoop to wallowing. Giving up on her book with a sigh she flipped off her lamp and fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

It was midnight before Hank really understood what it was that had bothered her. He had gone through his day pretending as if nothing had ever happened. When Bobby had asked if he would talk to Izabelle he had asked what about in a tone that ended the conversation.

But though he had avoided it in act he had faced it in thought. And he had realized she was right. He could not think of a single other mutant he would have not told that information to. He had actually kept it from her because they were moving toward being together and because he had hoped to cut out some piece of stress from their potential relationship. And it had been horribly dishonest of him, well intentioned though it was.

Izabelle felt someone shake her and knowing she had locked the door she punched blindly. The pained sound and fur let her know who it was.

"Hank?" She flipped a light on and saw him rubbing his lower jaw.

"How can your aim possibly be that good in the dark?" he half joked ruefully.

She couldn't think of anything to say so she just looked at him.

He noticed her watching him and knelt by her bed so their faces were the same level.

"I owe you an apology," he murmured to her. "I kept this from you to make our lives easier and it was very unfair to you."

"Our?"

He nodded and she could tell he was not lying. "There was already so much tension. It seemed so much easier to just cut off a piece of it and deal with it later…when things had sorted themselves out one way or the other."

"That's really why you did it?"

He nodded once and she analyzed him. He had considered her feelings and his own as well. It wasn't just removed and calculated decision making.

"I'm so sorry, Hank. I misunderstood. I thought –"

"As you had every right to. I never meant –"

As they kissed Izabelle pulled him into her bed. High emotion and the dead of night, combined with long brewing physical tension brought on the heat quickly and with great force. But Izabelle did not want the first time to be like this, and Hank was able to sense that in her.

Hank broke away, a flirtatious half smile showing on his face as he looked down at her. "You piqued my curiosity somewhere in the middle of our spat, my dear. When did we become lovers?"

Izabelle blushed a little but smirked up at him. "Not tonight."

He laughed quietly, pulling her close to him as she made room for him under the covers.

"I cannot, however, vouch for future nights. We shall see…"

Hank grinned broadly at the rare suggestive comment and nuzzled her ear, relaxing and welcoming sleep.

* * *

**February**

February was chill and the novelty of the deep cold had worn off, leaving everyone feeling cooped up.

Valentine's Day came. Logan made the mistake of asking Izabelle why she and Hank weren't going out for Valentine's Day, knowing Hank was a hopeless romantic to the core. He received a sound lecture on the marketing schemes behind the whole "holiday" and on her frustration with a holiday that allowed women to guilt and manipulate their men.

"And invariably it isn't what they dreamed it would be and everyone involved is crushed for no reason whatsoever!" Thus ended the lecture and Logan made a quick getaway.

"You look like you are actually afraid, friend," the congenial tones of Hank sounded from behind him, catching Logan sneaking away down the hall.

"I just gotta earful from your lady about … who knows but she was real angry about Valentine's Day."

Hank laughed whole-heartedly. "I think I could recite the speech along with her at this point."

"What's funny?" Forge had been half listening as he walked to the kitchen.

"Poor Hank here won't be going out tonight."

"Oh? Izabelle mad?"

"Not sure," Logan cut in. "You should ask her about it."

"Hmm…." Forge stopped listening as he resumed his quest. Wolverine grinned dryly at his blue friend and they snuck over by the door. Forge was an easy target and Izabelle loved harassing the body and soul out of him. This would be epic.

There were muffled words, a splash, and a cry of dismay from Forge.

The door swung open and before either could move away, the two men received cold glasses of water in the face. Sputtering they wiped water out of their eyes to see a smirking Izabelle.

"Like I didn't know who was behind this," she drawled, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice.

Hank and Logan exchanged looks and Izabelle realized she had kinda dug her own grave.

Scott was busy showing a potential student and his family around the mansion. They had reached the main hall that divided off into classrooms and dorms. A sound reached them and Scott instinctively pushed the group to the wall.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

A squealing Izabelle tore past them as fast as if she were on fire.

Very close behind her was Wolverine, claws in and running as fast as he was able, dripping wet over most of his torso.

Above them Hank was laughing, swinging across the rafters, keeping pace and carrying a cooking pot half full of water.

Out of their sight, around the corner, there was a dismayed cry and the sounds of combat.

"Got 'er!"

Thud!

"Hardly! Hold still!"

"Okay. One…"

"No! No no no no no!"

"Two… Three!"

Splash. Thump. Clang!

Howls of laughter rang out and Izabelle stumbled around the corner, mostly dry and holding her sides from laughing.

Logan followed, then Hank, both of them wetter than ever.

"What is going on…?" The visiting family and Scott had not moved, rooted there by curiosity.

"That little wretch threw me at Hank. Twisted around and threw me over the back of her!" Logan seemed awed enough to not kill her for soaking him twice. He was even smiling.

Hank was the first one to collect himself. "I am terribly sorry. Dr. Henry McCoy. Geneticist, resident doctor, and professor."

He shook hands with the family, dripping water on the floor. Izabelle took a few beats longer, the mention of his title having renewed her giggles, and introduced herself as well.

"We should let these people continue on their tour of our fine establishment," she spoke straight-faced to Logan and Hank. They made a hasty escape but half way down the corridor, they could hear the enthusiastic pleading of a future Xavier School student.

* * *

Hank and Izabelle had taken to reading to one another in the comfort of one of their beds, snuggled close for warmth. February had turned into the month of books.

Their tastes in books were similar but clearly not the same.

"I just don't have the…acquired taste for pastorals and sweeping romances you do, my dear," Hank teased one late night, stroking her now longish hair. He liked her hair a bit longer than she did so she had let it grow.

"And _I_ don't have the patience for dry, uninspired research like _you_ do."

The evening light had long since faded and Izabelle became acutely aware of the fact that they may be the only ones still awake. Hank had relaxed around her, his shirt half unbuttoned and cuffs rolled up, and he struck her as more attractive than ever.

He lay on his side facing her. A log in his fireplace, for it was his much larger bed they had inhabited this evening, split and sparks rained up the chimney.

Gently, his blue lips kissed her eyelids, nose, and cheeks. She smiled over at him and gently pushed him on his back, resting her chin on his chest and swirling patterns in his fur.

The restlessness of February, combined with the building intensity in their physical relationship, inspired her to be reckless. Her heart slammed in her chest and her thought was "To hell with it."

Slowly and deliberately, Izabelle pulled her shirt up over her head letting it drop to the floor. Hank's pupils dilated noticeably but otherwise he did not obviously respond at first. He could not tell if the room was suddenly hot, if it was just this damn fur, or if it was the body's excuse for stripping. He decided on the latter and also decided it was a good enough excuse for him.

His own suit shirt fell to the floor and he pulled her close against his body. The feeling of her nearly naked torso against his caused both of them to hold each other a bit tighter, to pull closer together.

Their lips met in the haze of kisses planted on necks, chests and breasts, shoulders, and stomachs. They began to rock together, holding tight to one another, trying to feel as much of one another as they could.

The slow and calculated actions were tossed aside for hormone driven passion. Hands worked over thighs, backs, and rears, daring only tentatively to feel the throbbing spaces between. Hank silently thanked a higher power that she was wearing a skirt.

The tension was unbearable and more pleasurable than could be imagined.

Seemingly without reason, Hank broke away and stared into her eyes. Izabelle made a small gasping sound, not out of emotion but as if having her air cut off suddenly, for his kisses were gone without seeming cause.

"Izabelle…"

Her heart leapt in her throat. This could not be good. She did not answer him.

"I… I don't want…I need to say something to you."

He stopped talking and she waited. He seemed to hope she suddenly had telepathy and after only a few minutes Izabelle couldn't take it any more.

"What?"

"No!" He soothed. "Not anything like that. Stars and garters, no!"

"Then what?" She was convinced it could only be something worse if that wasn't it.

"Would you…would you stay the night with me?" It seemed as if he were trying to be delicate which amused her since they were hardly decent at the moment. He was always the gentleman, always valiant, and if she had not loved him with every part of her before that moment she surely did now.

"There is nothing I would like, nay desire, more, Henry Phillip McCoy."

* * *

Something was tickling her back. Izabelle opened her eyes slowly.

That was not her dresser… Hank's dresser. Definitely Hank's dresser.

As her mind woke up she remembered, blushing at her forwardness. She could really only be that way in certain moods and while she did not regret her actions she was surprised by them.

She rolled over and found herself facing Hank.

Hank had been trying to sweetly wake her so she would not oversleep. And now here he was, greeted with giggling.

He tried to look removed, but his annoyance showed clearly. "And good morning to you too."

"Awwww….Don't be cross. I am not laughing at _you_ per say."

"And what would you be laughing at?"

"You snored at decibels I have only heard told in legends and myths!"

Even Hank could not hold back a loud laugh. "I do not snore. You are mistaken."

"Sir," she gave him an exaggerated teasing look, "I was here. I know."

"Well I think it's fair you should know as well then…"

She started to blush without even knowing what he was going to say.

"… that you suffer kleptomania in your sleep. Several times in the night I had to fight you as you slept walked to keep you from taking the valuables of the mansion."

"And you let me go about naked during all of this?" She teased, hoping to get a rise out of him.

"The better to see you with, my dear." He beamed as she buried her face playfully in her pillow.

Izabelle watched his expression turn thoughtful.

"I adore you, Izabelle. Truly, I do."

She kissed his lips lightly and was not surprised when he pulled her back into his arms, against his body, and into passion.

* * *

_Soooo…I debated on the rating because of this chapter. Personally, I feel this chapter might blur the lines a bit between T and M BUT it will be the only one of its kind. The goal is more to establish where they are at with each other than to set a precedent for other chapters._

_Our element of danger will be significantly reintroduced (and named even!) in the next chapter so don't get too cozy! _

_Thank you to reviewers! You make the world go 'round!_


	13. Snippets of Time: March, April, May

**Snippets of Time: March, April, May**

* * *

**March**

Wrapped in a sheet, Izabelle watched the curtains swirl in the spring breeze. The sounds of laughter and students wafted in to her and she snuggled closer to Hank. In the past month, she and Hank had traded off between the two rooms they occupied. Several people had suggested just moving in together, but that sounded of a certain caliber of commitment that neither had emotional strength for at the moment. Izabelle hoped it would certainly go that way, but that was not a decision she would make impulsively.

Since spring in New York was long in coming and very muddy, a nice day was a perfectly acceptable holiday. They had all been given the day off and Izabelle and Hank had opted to spend the morning indoors. Or more accurately, in the shower. Izabelle had been showering for class when Hank, annoyed that she could not hear what he was telling her, had joined her, fully clothed. One thing led to another and here they were.

"Dr. McCoy?" she cooed lazily at him.

"Mmmm?"

"What could have possibly provoked your earlier behavior? It was most unorthodox."

His eyes still closed, a blissful smile came over his features.

"I remember a day…almost a year ago actually…when a certain woman was taking pictures by a pool. I threw said woman into said pool but she cleverly entangled me. What I remembered though," he sat up, now looking deep into her eyes, "was the way she looked at me as we swam in the pool. Very…desirous. And I felt the situation should be replicated when possible."

Izabelle blushed. He had taken in hints and signals for as long as she had. Looking back on it, it was very foolish for her to have avoided it.

"I have a picture from that day," she remarked absently. "I suppose you could mark it as the very, very beginning of…"

He nodded, understanding what she meant. "What did it look like? If I remember right you took a lot of pictures."

"It's almost impossible to explain. It's all feeling. The visual is only part of it."

"Show me," he challenged, ever ready to test her powers. He placed her hands on his cheeks and waited expectantly, replacing his pince-nez to be able to see her better.

She looked like she would argue but sat up and set her face, closing her eyes and breathing evenly. He had found a new chemical combination that had been very promising and hadn't given some absurd side effect, but there hadn't been any formal test of it yet.

Hank could feel the memory as if it were his own. He could see the photo in his mind, see the look he was giving her. It was a more intense stare than he had realized and he knew with certainty as he saw and felt her remember that he loved her. And he knew that somewhere in her mind she had known it a little as well.

She took her hands down and folded them in her lap. It had made her much more tired than it usually did.

"I am surprised you did not call my bluff the moment you saw that picture," Hank told her sincerely.

"I didn't think about it much. But I always knew it was there."

Hank closed his eyes and pictured. But the memory was fresh and clear, not second-hand. He opened his eyes again and looked at her with a different intensity.

"What?" immediately she was on guard, afraid something was wrong.

"Izabelle, I believe you gave me that memory, not completely, but at least somewhat."

"But that's what I do. I access and show-"

"But I can see it and feel it as if it were my own!" His voice was excited not agitated and it relaxed her a bit. "Try to pull some memory of mine."

Since it was the last thing they had talked about, Izabelle focused on the moment right before she had taken the picture.

* * *

"Professor!"

Xavier spun around quickly, hearing alarm in Izabelle's voice. She was jogging to him, Hank close behind buttoning up a shirt. He resisted a smirk; Izabelle had done a lot to loosen him up and this was one of many ways it was seen.

"Izabelle can implant and extract memories!" Hank spoke before her, his face slightly flushed in excitement, purple under the blue.

"How-?"

"I gave him my memory of a picture I took and he remembers it as his own. And I took his memory of that same event and I can very clearly recall it from his view."

Indicating he would like to see this himself, Xavier scanned through their minds. And indeed, Izabelle had two memories of the same moment: one from the ground and one from a window above.

Xavier looked at the grinning couple. "It would seem that what you say is true. Your powers are finally coming under your control."

With a shriek that made Hank cover his ears, Izabelle flung herself onto him. He lifted her feet off the ground in a tight hug before she broke away to kiss the top of Xavier's bald head. Tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes.

"Congratulations," Xavier said, grinning, "Tomorrow we can begin testing what you can do."

* * *

In the days that followed the three of them plus Jean Grey were able to figure out just the extent and limitations of this latent ability.

Izabelle could indeed extract and implant memories. However, she could do neither with thoughts or ideas, from herself or from others.

She and Hank found, unintentionally, that she was also able to pass and pull dreams. They had been sharing nightmares (Hank's it was discovered) and being the true scientist he was Hank tested them sleeping apart from each other and next to each other. When touching, dreams could be given or absorbed by Izabelle.

It frustrated her deeply that this, to her was yet another stupid power. What good did giving memories do?

But there were ways it found use. One such instance was the case of Ruth, blind from birth and even lacking eyes. Izabelle's memories were able to give her vision she could experience when she desired of sights, colors, and events.

The thing that gave Izabelle the greatest happiness, though, was her ability to almost stop fade outs. It began to seem as though a day might come when all of this would be only a distant memory.

* * *

**March**

Izabelle lay on the couch in Hank's room staring listlessly at the wall. She did not move, blink, or make a single sound.

It had been awful.

Again, Hank had been invited to a debate, this time a televised one rather than a political debate. Things had gone well for Hank. His speech had actually been well received, giving Izabelle hope she had not expected.

The problem had come when he had left her alone in the crowd. Someone had called him aside for a short interview with a paper. She had tried to make herself scarce, but it had not worked. A man she felt she knew had approached her, seemingly out of nowhere. He had offered her a drink.

"And who are you, Miss…?"

"Rowan," Izabelle had answered shyly. She had not seen this man as an active member of the debates but she had noticed him watching. It was never made clear just who he was. His stature and iron grey hair made him easy to recognize though. He wore a sharp military uniform that she did not recognize.

"And you find yourself the companion of Mr. McCoy?"

It had rubbed her completely the wrong way. The way he said companion made her think of whores. And Mr. McCoy?

"Dr. Henry McCoy," she corrected loudly, drawing some attention. "You are?"

"Barrie. Titus Barrie." He stepped closer, backing her into a wall. He did not seem bothered by her anger at all and this scared her more than seemed proportionate. Something about him emanated foreboding. "I consider myself to be a close…follower of McCoy's activities. The two of you have been together for quite some time, haven't you?"

"You know nothing about me and that is not going to change today!" she hissed at him; something about him made her feel cornered and aggressive. They were both whispering, him almost pressed against her, tight in a corner.

"Are you sure of that, Miss Rowan?"

Her stomach dropped and words left her.

"I know more about you than you know about yourself. I know you were a precocious and careless photographer who drew too much attention with her mutation and had to 'disappear.' I know who your parents are, though they don't know you at all. I know of every play you've seen with our dear doctor, your run in with his ex, and I personally have watched you browse paintings at the Soren Carver Gallery the day after your birthday."

Izabelle felt faint and sick. The room spun a bit and she leaned back against the wall. Barrie stepped closer to her and she pressed a hand to her head. How could he know? How could anyone know so much about her if she had never even seen him before?

"How do you know that?" she had whispered hoarsely.

He didn't answer her. "I warn you now, Miss Rowan. This is not a tide you want to be caught up in. Step out of this game now and register like all your kind ought, or suffer a great loss." His hands were holding her arms tightly to her sides and she did not even resist him. Her mind had shut down. It was too much for her to think of now, after a debate that had given her so much hope.

Hank had returned. She had been missing and he had done all he could to not show his panic. A quick call and he had Forge track her by her new earrings, which she had never suspected to contain a microchip. Hank found her in a back hallway. She was curled up in a ball and refused to move or speak. He had taken her to the helicopter pad on top of the building and Storm had picked them up.

And now here she was, still not talking and still in shock.

"Is there anything you can do?" Kurt asked, keeping out of her line of vision; the sight of him didn't generally comfort people.

"If I could, do you not think I would be doing it?" Hank's voice was icy-sharp. But it betrayed deep worry and Kurt tried not to take offense.

The click of heels rapidly grew closer and Jean Grey appeared, out of breath and with Scott in tow.  
"We came as soon as we heard," she gasped, "The Professor is out for the evening. How is she?"

"In shock. Non-responsive and…" He coughed to clear the emotion from his voice. He tried to stroke her hair and Izabelle closed her eyes and pulled away. He looked at Jean with deep hurt. "I do not know what's wrong. I don't know if she was scared, or hurt, or taken advantage of…I do not know."

Jean knelt by Izabelle, lightly making contact with her wrist. She could see it play out, feel the overwhelming sickness and fear, feel the emotional collapse. As she watched the memories, Izabelle relaxed visibly. Jean lulled her into a sleep and looked up at Hank, Scott, and Kurt.

"It might be best if you see it from her, Hank."

For one of the few times in the years they had known him Hank uttered a heavy curse.

"No…not like that," Jean soothed. "She'll be fine. There was a man there. I've never seen a uniform like his before. He intimidated her and he knew…everything about her. Hank…He knew who her parents were."

Hank ran both hands over his face and through his hair. She wouldn't even tell him that and he knew she had wiped their memories long ago. Whoever this man was, he knew too much.

"Vat did he vant?" Kurt's tail was flicking agitatedly, betraying his calm exterior.

"He warned her to get out. It's hard to explain. Understandably, the memories are clouded and skip around as she thinks of them. Memory is useful but not reliable."

"Why stalk her, learn every detail about her life, and then warn her you know?" Scott's arms were across his chest and his mouth was a hard line. "It has to be a trap."

"Not a trap." The airy voice from the couch sent Hank rocketing over to his lover. He checked her visible body (not a bruise or scratch to be seen) and her pupils (no head injuries).

"Not to sound rude, Iz –" Scott began.

"-abelle." She finished her name where he had left it, her face emotionless. She really hated nicknames.

"Sorry. Izabelle. But how could you know that?"

"Would you know if Jean was lying to you?"

"Of course."

"How?"

"Her voice, how she acts…but you've never seen this guy before."

"Even if I didn't know him, he knew me and he knew what would work. It was a true warning, to register or suffer."

There was silence all around. She looked really tired and Hank gently sat next to her, placing her head in his lap.

"Vat do ve do?"

"We register or we get ready."

"For vat?"

Izabelle shrugged. She wished she knew. Then they could prepare, but she didn't know and they could not. They knew where the school was and they knew who was there. Whoever they were, they had the advantage.

"Do you think," Scott was talking in a low voice to Hank, "we should put her under some protection?"

"They don't want _me_…" She met his glasses, and he could tell she believed it.

"How can you know that?"

She sat up, looking at him like he was a little insane. "Just in this room alone there are mutants far more 'valuable' than me, if we think in terms of commodities. Jean is an Omega level mutant. You are one of the most efficient tacticians and contain massive amounts of destructive force. Kurt is an expert fighter, invisible in dark places, and a teleporter. And Hank is a genius, capable of incredible feats of strength and power. I can make people forget me or share my memories with them. I can't influence anyone's mind beyond that. There is no way they are after me."

"But why follow you then?"  
"I'm the one they caught. I'm the one they already knew. They're probably hoping I can lead them in or lead you out."

She had slumped against Hank about halfway through her speech and now was fighting collapse.

"You need to sleep," he said softly. She nodded, not resisting him at all as he scooped her up in his arms.

"Could we finish this conversation in the morning? It has been … a lot." The weariness showed in his face and they were all reminded that only hours ago he thought that Izabelle had been abducted, and then was convinced of even worse once he found her.

"Sure, Hank. Both of you get some rest," Scott nodded.

Things could wait. There would not be any less danger tomorrow.

* * *

**May**

A breeze ruffled the skirt of Izabelle's swimsuit. The school had offered a field trip and she had been eager to join the group. As someone from a much colder climate beaches were terribly novel to her. Of course the water was, in her mind, too cold for any actual swimming but just spending a day at the beach was fun.

Or would be if it weren't for Hank. Not that he was by any means not fun, but he had drug his feet over even coming and now he spent every moment gently bothering and teasing her. He had drawn the X-Men symbol on her shoulder in sunscreen where it now stood out pale against her sunburn. And now he was busy piling sand on the back of her knees.

"Henry Phillip McCoy," she threatened, squinting over at him through large sunglasses.

"Mmmmm?" His calm grin sparked her own evil smirk.

"Why have you taken it into your mind to torture me?"

"Let me ask you a question, dear Izabelle. If you were covered in fur, what sort of landscape would you avoid?"

"You didn't have to come," she smiled.

"And yet, those huge eyes of yours didn't give me any option," he said sweetly, kissing her lightly.

She laid her head back down on her beach towel. Very shortly after, little puffs of sand hit her sides. She opened her eyes to catch Hank flicking sand at her. Clearly sitting calmly on a beach was not what he wanted to do.

"One more time, Hank."

Amara and Tabitha, grouped together about a yard away, elbowed each other. That was Izabelle's phrase for 'I will do something ridiculous if you don't stop.'

Hank pretended to consider and deliberately flicked a huge amount of sand on her. In a flash, Izabelle had tackled him from his propped up position. Easily he tossed her about a foot away and bounded off laughing. He headed up the side of a nearby dune and Izabelle sighed. There was no way she could catch him running in sand. With her hips it was like wading through mud.

"Need a hand?" Warren grinned down at her.

* * *

Izabelle ducked and wove through a small stand of trees. Hank had been teasing her for about ten minutes and she was more than ready to catch him. He would appear suddenly, above her or behind her and kiss her teasingly before disappearing again.

Up ahead of her there was a high dune that dipped into a bowl and she was certain he would meet her there.

She stopped running up the dune to catch her breath and noticed the silence. It was total besides the breaking waves. Not an animal sound around. And no sound from Hank. Her skin prickled and a cold sweat broke out.

Something was wrong.

She tore up the side of the dune, wishing that she could fly for once.

What she saw as she crested the dune made her knees give out under her. Hank was down, face down in the sandy scrub brush. Two military men were standing over him and beginning to drag him away, calling for backup.

If Hank had not been distracted looking for her he would have sensed them. She felt sick.

And recklessly she tore down into the bowl. In only a bikini she was horribly exposed and it was only her crazy screaming that helped her, causing them to jump away from Hank and her.

Izabelle fell on top of her lover, not sure of what to do now other than shield him with her own body. He was warm and breathing. It had just been a good hit on the head.

A man grabbed her and she threw him, something she had worked on with Logan after the Valentine's Day water fight of lore. The other radioed and aimed his gun at her. She kicked it out of his hand, hoping the sand it landed in might harm it. Another solid kick in the chest slammed him into a tree, winding him completely.

She was wondering how she could avoid punches with her exposed knuckles when the back of her shoulder exploded, or at least it felt that way. She had never been shot before in her life and the pain was surreal. She became aware of every movement of every muscle in her back and arm and aware of just how much it hurt to move them.

Gasping she crouched next to Hank, watching the two men, now side by side in front of her. She could hear others cresting the hill on all sides of her. She could not fight and Hank was out. And her powers…

It brought tears to her eyes. These damn useless powers. She could not even save the man she loved because they were so useless!

With a scream that became a roar, she threw herself across Hank, hoping to at least save him. There was a burst of wind but her eyes were tight shut so she did not see the cause. She heard running.

The running slowed.

The running stopped.

Yells broke out around her and she could hear men backtracking.

Finally she opened her eyes and froze. She and Hank were enclosed in a glowing dome. In its thick walls shifted various images, ever changing. Each was a memory from Izabelle or those she had absorbed from Hank. She briefly recognized the night of the attack on the school and then saw a reoccurring nightmare of Hank's. Once they stepped into it, the men glowed and seemed to no longer see her or Hank. The pair could only be seen from outside of the dome.

The blessed sound of the chopper and Logan jumping out of it reached her ears and she closed her eyes, preferring not to watch the massacre.

When all was still, Logan approached. "Hey, Izabelle –"

The dome touched him and she watched as he began to writhe trying to get away from something.

"You don't know anything about me!" he roared.

With those words it became clear to her what this dome was. It was her worst memories and nightmares, cast outside her self and attacking those who touched them. And with great effort she recalled it back to herself.

Panting she looked at Wolverine, her tunnel vision getting worse. "Sorry, Logan."

"It's okay kid." He was busy inspecting her shoulder, though she was entirely focused on Hank's head in her lap.

"Help…Hank…"

Then black.

* * *

Izabelle woke to Warren smiling over her.

"Now, I'm convinced you just like my body."

"What?" She immediately worried she had said something in sleep talk. He was very fine but she couldn't think of giving him a reason to say that.

"One full transfusion for the second time."

Now Izabelle smiled weakly, following his line of thought. Body…blood…they must have given her Angel blood while she was out. She wished Hank wouldn't, since she could heal on her own. She realized Warren's body would compensate for it all but it still seemed like a waste.

"My goal," she croaked back to him, "is to possess more of your blood than you yourself do."

Warren laughed and squeezed her hand. "Glad you're better. I made Hank leave, so blame me. You know how he is."

Izabelle laughed a little. Yeah…she knew. If he had an idea or challenge or desire…well you could cancel any other plans.

She slept well for another couple hours before waking to the sound of discussion.

"I'm not so convinced, Hank. She's been involved in all of these attacks. And we saw she can do more than we thought." Izabelle recognized Scott.

Jean's voice now: "But she was not even aware she could do that. The Professor does not believe it's something she could do on command for many months yet, possibly many years."

"But someone else, another powerful telepath could learn that potential could they not?"

"You forget, Scott, that she was a side endeavor. I was the idiot they captured without a fight." Izabelle smiled a little at Hank's words.

"Yeah, what was that about? How did you not hear them?"

Izabelle craned her neck to see Hank who was blushing deeply.

"Ah." Scott cleared his throat. "I see."

Behind him, Jean was trying to hide a grin. Scott was always the last one to know anything and Jean had known for months.

"Talking about me?" Izabelle called, unable to resist the timing.

She pulled herself up, testing her shoulder as Hank rushed over and unabashedly kissed her. "Glad to see you awake. What do you remember?"

"Everything up until Logan was checking my shoulder. I've never been shot before, Hank. That _hurt_."

"Yes, it does." The look in his eyes made them both quiet. He had been shot before. He had been shot many times. She was again struck with the danger he faced as an X-Man and the physical agony it could bring. She hugged him as tightly as her shoulder would allow.

"I got the bullet out and cleaned it. I do realize you have spoken with Mr. Worthington about his body," Hank's eyes twinkled at her over his glasses, "And I would have you understand that your shoulder blade was shattered. We gave you the transfusion to heal the bone. You should be fine now."

Izabelle grimaced involuntarily. Shattered was a terrible word.

Scott, clearly still worried, broke in, "The fact still remains that an X-Man or Xavier Student was attacked …without a warrant… by the military."

A silence blanketed the group. This was alarming indeed. They all knew special ops groups had much looser restrictions but the bill was still being debated and if it went through… While it was a tired cliché, this was the same as laws passed in Nazi Germany.

"What do we do?"

The question came from Izabelle. She had no ideas this time and she was worried. There did seem to be some sort of pattern around herself and Hank. She had no idea what the memory cloud had been and was fairly sure she would not see it again in the near future. What could she do then? What could any of them do?

Hank stroked her hair absently, waiting for Scott to answer.

Scott sighed. "I honestly don't know. If they can get at us without process of law…that changes everything."

* * *

_Sorry this was so long in coming._

_For anyone concerned, we won't see any other changes in Izabelle's powers. I'm trying really hard not to Mary Sue her!_

_More action and drama on the horizon! :-)_


	14. Chapter 14: Goodbye Love

_So this is a high drama chapter so I'm putting the notes up here to not ruin the feel of it at the end. I PROMISE this is not the last chapter! I have much more coming! :-)_

_Also, reviewers get previews of the next chapter starting now! _

_And finally, shameless plug: I have a HP story going as well. Feel free to skip over there!_

_And now I present to you:_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Goodbye Love**

"I just don't think you should go in alone, Izabelle."

Hank watched Izabelle dress from the edge of the bed, as she debated over which outfit would bring less attention.

"I've been doing things alone for a long time Henry."

"Not for the last year."

Izabelle stopped dressing, turning so she could look into his eyes. Yes, she realized, it had been nearly a year since they had begun the long road to what they now were.

"That may be true," she admitted. "But I'll be fine."

"I can't help you if I'm not with you Izabelle."

Hank watched her fists ball up and she put her back to him.

Understandably, there had been growing tension in their relationship. Scott had suggested someone look after her with such frequency that Hank had shouted, "What do you think I'm trying to do, Summers?" loud enough to bring a whole floor to a dead quiet. And now at Scott's bequest Hank was following her everywhere and it was driving her mad. Neither blamed the other, but they were both fed up.

"It's just simple recon, Hank."

"It's not simple recon when you are breaking into a government building. If you were caught-"

"I'd get hell for it. I know!"

Hank grimaced; he hated it when she talked like that. It made her sound low and common.

"It's only a tax office anyway. And it won't be alone. Forge will be with me. And you will be watching the whole time from the plane."

Izabelle turned to face him, dressed well but not in a noticeable way.

"You look nice," Hank said. It was true.

She sighed and smiled at him. "I know you don't like this, but it's hard for me to erase myself, let alone anyone else. Three people wouldn't even stand a chance and Forge hacks the fastest."

Izabelle leaned over, kissing his forehead slowly. Hank breathed in her perfume and impulsively pulled her to him.

She rested his head on her chest and he listened to her breathe. She was scared; he could tell by her breathing. It had been inconsiderate for him to have not noticed. He felt suddenly guilty.

"I wish it were you, Hank. I really do. You're the only one I feel safe with."

Pulling back from her he could see a tear trailing down her cheek. He wiped it away and kissed her eyelids gently. The gesture spoke as an apology.

"I love you, Henry." It was almost more of a call for reassurance, a hope he still felt the same.

"I love you too, Izabelle."

And he did.

* * *

"Hank? Henry?"

The blue doctor turned to face the woman who was talking to him. "I'm sorry. I did not hear you."

Izabelle's heart fell. Of course he didn't. They had been fighting more and more and the stress had probably kicked off a fade out.

The recon had been fine and they had gotten the information they needed. Tax records were the most accurate available and might give them some clue as to the size and scale of what they were up against.

But they had nearly been caught. A security guard had come back to the office, trapping them there. Forge's solution was to grab her leg and mime kissing her. It had worked and Hank, watching through the hacked security cameras, had not been impressed. He had flown them back in dead silence and for the first time in months Izabelle had slept alone in her bed. The shouting and door slamming had been epic, her violent temper at its worse.

So now a fade out. Of course. They had worked everything out as they always did but the fight had thrown both of them off.

"Nevermind," Izabelle mumbled and left. She bumped Logan on her way out and he did not look at her twice. It was the strongest fade out in a while if others didn't remember her either.

The past couple fade outs had been localized. Either people physically near her forgot her or only Hank. She assumed that since Hank was the trigger that was why he was the "target" but it killed her. He always took the longest to remember.

Halfway down the hall Izabelle remembered her notebook, still on the counter by Hank where she had left it.

She jogged back but hearing her name caught her attention and she stopped in the hall.

"I just do not know what to do," Hank's voice resonated out to her on the other side of the door.

"What is it though? What's the problem? A pretty lady talks to you and seeks you out. That's not a bad thing." Iceman's voice and crunching as he ate.

"But there is expectation there. She wants something from me that I cannot give her."

"Well…" Bobby's tone was suggestive, "You _could_ meet these expectations."

Hank coughed somewhat disapprovingly and she could hear him sip coffee.

"She pointed out a notebook I apparently have been keeping of our relationship. The strange thing is it seems as though things have soured between us. Assuming this is real at all. My notes are largely frustrated." Izabelle could tell from Hank's tone that he was just running through his thoughts aloud and trying to sort them out. But they went through her like bullets.

"Well then break it off with her. I mean, it's not much of a relationship if you don't even know her and there's bad blood."

Izabelle took off, leaving her own things where they lay in the kitchen. She felt as if her heart would break.

Within hours, her mind had been made up. Of course there had been crying. Then there had been trying to tell herself that he didn't know what he had said, that if he had been in his full mind he would never have said that.

But then it had come to her as if from outside of herself. He would never have said it, but that did not mean this was not what he thought.

The more she thought of it the more true it seemed. He would never say that and maybe it was not even what he wanted on the surface but somewhere deep down he knew things had gone bad.

And then there was her own gnawing lump of pain and it had grown like cancer over the months.

Yes, she decided, when the moment was 'right' she would do it.

* * *

The fade out was a month behind them. Things had actually turned upward with the onset of the hot months and the sun. But always at the back of her mind remained the last fade out.

It was a Friday evening.

The week had been long and after an afternoon of 'recreation' they had curled up together in Izabelle's soft bed, both half dressed and reading. Hank curled and uncurled a blanket around his toes and reached over to stroke her hair.

Izabelle knew that this was the moment. She leaned away from him and he looked over his book at her.

"Everything alright?"

"Hank…"

He knew what was happening simply from the tone in her voice. The combination of fury, pain, and overwhelming sickness did not go well with him.

"Izabelle, you can't-"

"Hank, this isn't working!"

"You rarely have fade outs and improvements are being made on a regular basis, both in the medicine and in your own abilities."

"But-"

"We've been together in some sense or another for a year, Izabelle. How is that 'not working'?" He fought to keep his voice low and calm.

"Hank!" Her cry of frustration silenced him. "Things just haven't been…good. We fight and you don't remember me and…you said…"

Hank had unintentionally found out about the conversation between himself and Bobby when she had passed it on to him in a nightmare. The guilt had rocked him but the sentiment had resonated with him.

"I know what I said. But things are not that bad. We live in a darkening time, Izabelle. There will be more stress on our relationship than ever before. The answer is not to give up."

"I'm not giving up!" she snapped, volume rising. "I'm giving you what you want!"

"I have told you," Hank growled, "that isn't what I want. I will not tell you again."

"I just can't do this!" Without knowing it Izabelle was getting closer to what was the heart of the issue for her.

"Why is it always you who is doing this? You are not facing this alone." A constant burr for Hank was her insistence that she was alone. Yes, he understood this had been so much of her life and truthfully would continue to be much of her life. But he had tried so very hard to give her no reason to feel this way, yet it never seemed to make any difference.

"Yes I am, Hank! When I need you most you are never ever there!" An emotional dam broke and she began to cry.

"You make it sound as if I have abandoned you for some frivolity!" Hank's patience had a limit and it had been reached.

"No. That's not what I mean," she soothed. Upset as she was she had never thought he had cared for her with anything less than his whole self. Even now she would not let him think that she felt this way.

"Then it is not as bad as you say."

"It is killing me. I look you in the eyes every time I fade out and they are the eyes I adore and know. But I can see that you don't recognize me."

"I cannot change that! You would leave me for what I cannot control?"

She looked away now, fighting back sobs.

"Izabelle, you are clearly upset. This is all quite emotional. Maybe if you were to get some distance from it, say for a day or a week-"

"I've been thinking about this for a month."

It was like a kick in the stomach.

"Oh. So you had your mind made up before this conversation ever began? Well clearly my input is not really of any importance then."

"You know that's not what I mean! Don't be so selfish!"

"Selfish? I have not worked myself into a dramatic frenzy! I at least have the ability to reason still!"

"I can reason just fine, Hank McCoy!"

"Then what is it? What is your great reason for all of this? For this destruction of what we have fought so hard for? For-"

Her face turned purple as she screamed with all the force in her small body: "IF YOU LOVED ME YOU WOULD REMEMBER ME!"

It was the heart of it all, the core of her doubts and pain. And it was the killing blow for Hank McCoy. He could not argue and he could do nothing to change this. If this was the measure of his love than he could never love her as she wanted. They would always be in conflict and there would always be pain.

Izabelle's vision swam as lights popped before her eyes, signs of popping vessels from the volume and power of her scream. Hank stared at her and there was total silence. He stood facing her. Slowly, he began to button his shirt, then his cuffs. When he began to hunt for his shoes she tried to talk to him.

"Hank? Please say something."

"There is nothing left to say. By your logic I do not, and cannot, love you. I release you from any obligation you may have ever felt toward me and would ask you do the same."

He stood tall, collected, and as cold as marble before her. He was further from her now than if he had been miles away. Even in her shock, Izabelle registered his tears as something much deeper than usual. She had never seem him cry, ever. It had never occurred to her that he may care this much. A wave of doubt slammed against her and she tried to touch him.

He jumped away from her and, throwing open the door, began down the hall.

Izabelle could not breathe. This was all wrong. They should have said these things long ago. They should not be walking away from each other forever.

She chased after him, ending up in the front entrance. He had reached the bottom of the steps once she caught up at the top.

"Hank! Please!" Heads turned and she took no notice.

He turned slowly and looked at his over the top of her glasses. "Madam, I have given you what you wanted. Please, leave me in peace." His voice cracked and he turned on his heel.

He left.

Everything crashed down on Izabelle. He knees gave and, hugging the banister, she wept openly. She felt her life had ended with those words.

It was fortunate that Nightcrawler was in the hall at this moment. Feeling deep pity for the broken woman, he teleported her back to her room then gathered those he could find from training and their own rooms.

* * *

It was late into the evening when Bobby Drake, camped down the hall and watching her door finally got his opportunity.

"Izabelle. Can I talk to you?"

He jumped out when her door opened and she jumped, not expecting an ambush. But she nodded and moved aside, letting him in. She didn't want to talk but the fight had gone out of her.

When he looked at her Bobby was reminded of Hank. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her face was splotchy and she looked like she had been attacked by bees. Not that Hank looked like this, but he had run a Danger Room session that had left him with a cracked femur, strained shoulder muscle, and in need of stitches. They wore their hurt very differently.

"I think you should reconsider all of this. Hank really loves you and –"

"And he was the one who ended it."

"yes…but you know that isn't what he wanted."

Her eyes flashed. "Oh?"

"Yes, really."  
"And you would know this how? By, say, talking to him?"

"Izabelle, I just spent an hour talking to him. He's real torn up and-"

The force of the memory knocked Bobby off of his feet. He lay on his back where he landed and watched it play out before him.

"There is this sense of obligation coming from her and I do not even know who she is," Hank explained shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Maybe you should let her go then. I mean...that's not really a relationship then is it?"

Izabelle glowered at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You may not remember but I do. Don't you dare lecture me, Bobby Drake. Don't you dare."

Shamefaced, he stood. "I never wanted this to happen. Even if..."

"Even if you said it? Please just leave me alone."

Bobby Drake left and did not approach Izabelle about the break up again.

* * *

Bobby was not the only hasty mutant though. Not only did the breakup send ripples through the school, but those connected to the individuals involved felt it even more acutely.

After holding her, watching her not eat, and feeling her pain, Sam Guthrie's Southern blood began to boil.

The X-Men were leaving a Danger Room session as the New Mutants were arriving. Sam caught Hank by the arm.

"You had no right to talk to her like that."

Hank of course knew immediately what he was talking about. Gently and with great disdain, Hank removed his arm from Sam's grip.

"This would be an issue you would be better off staying out of, boy."

Sam's temper spiked at the insult.

"If she won't stand up against you, I will. How you treated her was unexcusable."

While Hank knew Izabelle probably knew nothing about this, the caricature of himself snapped his patience.

"I give you one more warning, Guthrie. Leave this where it lies."

* * *

Kitty's shrieks brought Logan running. The sound of explosions told him where to look in the canyon laced Danger Room.

Hank hung by one arm off the sheer face of a canyon and Sam blasted off at him. Leaping, they met in midair and slammed into the face of the cliff. They fell, trying to land punches in the air. Sam powered up again and the pair rocketed off in another direction, again slamming into a cliff face.

Logan's threats did not work. A word to Forge and the canyons melted away. The men now circled each other, trying to land a punch or kick as they ducked and weaved.

"Make sure they don't kill themselves!" Logan shouted to Kitty before taking off. More serious intervention was needed.

* * *

"Stop it! Both of you stop it now!" The shrieks were recognized by both fighters and they broke apart, looking over at Izabelle.

Sam was definitely worse for wear but Hank was bruising in angry red bruises.

With the momentum of her frustration, Izabelle stormed up to Sam and physically dragged him behind her.

There was silence in the room as the two ex lovers faced one another. Then Izabelle did something that would solidify her reputation as a brave but foolish woman.

She slapped Hank across his bleeding face with all of her might.

A bright red handprint began to show as she disappeared through the gathering crowd, Sam in tow.

Hank vanished through the opposite door when she had gone, slamming it hard enough to crumple the door in it's frame.


	15. Chapter 15: Don't You Remember?

**Chapter 15: Don't You Remember?**

Hank felt as if his life had cracked in half. The altercation with Izabelle after he fought Sam solidified the bad feeling between them, but it was all much deeper than that. They had wrapped their lives around each other and now it was all gone.

Their thing were also scattered between the two rooms. The first few nights and mornings were frequented by one or the other appearing at the door asking for this tie, that skirt, those sandals. Each and every occasion broke Izabelle's heart. The first few times, Hank almost began a conversation with Izabelle before heaving a deep sigh and leaving. When the door closed, he could hear her beginning to cry. It was too painful and so he gave her his key, asked her to gather her things while he was out, and she did the same.

But the very hardest thing was the simple fact that they had spent the better part of a year hiding reminders of each other in every corner and every aspect of their lives. Because of her mutation, reminders of her surrounded Hank in case of a fade out. Even his metal and cold tile lab bore pieces of her. He could not get away from her but he could not love her as she wanted and he would give her nothing short of that. Also, things had been said and done in anger and pain, and the wounds had to heal.

The breaking point came about two weeks after their break up.

Hank hadn't been the only one receiving the cold shoulder from Izabelle. Though she had slapped Hank, she had ignored Sam since his fight with Hank. Sam waited, understanding the importance of time in what he was about to do. Finally, when he deemed the time right, Sam caught her outside in the gazebo. Neither was aware of Hank, who had been passing on a different objective, watching from the trees behind them.

Hank did not want to stop and watch but he could not help himself. He had known, as everyone else did, that Sam had feelings for Izabelle. Come what may the morbid part of his heart stopped him and forced him to watch.

"Izabelle, you can't ignore me forever."  
"Watch me."

"I did it fer you! He shouldn't have treated you that way!"

Hank's fur bristled and his lips curled back in a snarl.

"I broke it off. Not him."

Sam was stunned into silence.

"He never treated me as anything other than a gentleman. You were out of line."

"Then why…?"

Hank could hear the wet quality of her words, caused by her tears. "He could never remember me and…I thought it was what would be best for everyone."

Sam's heart leapt slightly. Maybe there was a chance. "I remember you first of all, Izabelle. I always have. I…can be there for you. I would take care of you with just one word from you."

It was too much for Hank McCoy. Their separation was bad but to have her move on so quickly… He would not stop her but he would not stay and watch. Noiselessly, Hank took off through the woods.

What Hank never saw could have saved him, however. But he did not see it and other, darker paths began to unfold.

Izabelle shook her head wildly. "No, Sam. My only and final word is no. I love Hank. Maybe I always will. I cannot pretend otherwise."

Sam nodded, his hopes returning to their normal state. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it as he realized there was nothing to say, and with a quick squeeze of her hand he left.

* * *

"Are you sure, Henry?"

Xavier knew Hank's exact motivations but the whole situation saddened him. Clearly this young couple was meant to be together.  
"I can't stay here." Hank collected himself before speaking again. "With Trish, I could stay here and be away from her. But Izabelle…I see her everywhere, I smell her skin on my clothes and sheets, I catch her perfume in the halls. I just need some time away to clear my head."

Xavier understood and knew there was no reason to deny Hank what he wanted, beyond his own desire to interfere with Hank and Izabelle. "You are long overdue for a vacation, my friend."

Hank nodded, only half listening.

* * *

Soft twangy music floated in from the headphones plugged into Izabelle's ears. She had found the song quite accidentally but it now consumed her.

_When will I see you again  
__You left with no goodbye  
__Not a single word was said  
__No final kiss to seal anything  
__I had no idea  
__Of the state we were in_

Hank had left. He had packed and now he was gone. He had walked straight out of her life.

_Don't you remember  
__Don't you remember  
__The reason you loved me before  
__Baby, please remember  
__Me once more_

She wanted him back. If she died tomorrow she knew there would be no regret bigger in her life than breaking up with him. She had been foolish and selfish, taking the easy way out of a hard relationship. But it was too late now; he was gone, to clear her from his mind.

_When was the last time  
__You thought of me  
__Oh have you completely  
__Erased me from you memory  
__I often think about  
__Where I would roam  
__The more I do the less I know_

Izabelle had heard the song while at the mall, left everything she had been looking at, come back to the school, and downloaded the song. It had been on repeat for the past hour, speaking to the ache in her chest.

_I hope you find the missing piece  
__To bring you back to me  
__Why don't you remember  
__Don't you remember  
__When will I see you again?_

She did not cry. She had cried it all out a while ago. But her heart hurt like a growing cavity. If he could forget her surely she could too. If not the pain might end her.

* * *

Hank closed his eyes tightly and stretched out on the hotel bed. He could not sense any one around him and from what he had seen he was not followed here. He just needed some time away.

Izabelle and Sam… The thought sent cold hate through this heart and outward through his whole body. He breathed deeply, calming himself. Maybe he should take a bath. Izabelle swore by the calming effects of a bath.

He shoved his fists against his eyes, trying to block her out. It always came back to her. He could not get away from her, even 1,000 miles away.

But if she could move on surely he could too. It had always been easier for her to block things out and to walk away from how she felt.

But did he want to? That was the plaguing question. Half of him wanted to forget but for all the wrong reasons. He knew she had made him better and he hoped he had done the same for her.

The door exploded in unison with the window. Hot glass cut at his skin and Beast was on his feet in a moment. But it was too late; he had lost whatever advantage his mutation may have given him when he did not sense that something was wrong.

Men flooded into the room. In some ways this was what Hank had been wanting; this gave him a very masculine outlet for the conflict built up in his gut.

Four tranquilizers burrowed into his thick skin, but did not phase him. He could take six times the normal amount so they would have to keep shooting for some time.

Men flew through the air and slammed into the furniture and walls. But even Beast's brute strength could not make up for being outnumbered, shot, tackled, cut, and beaten. The men did not stop coming and the more he fought the closer they pressed in on him, with knives, guns, and metal-knuckled gloves. As his back turned to the window, a kick to the back of his knees brought him down. Another kick to the back of his head made his vision swim.

As his head hit the carpet under the pile of men that dove on him, he realized it was over. What he may or may not feel about Izabelle no longer mattered because he was about to become one of the disappeared mutants. He would never be heard of again and she would never know…never know how much he loved her.

He was manacled with the thickest chain he had ever seen and etherized in moments. As the drug hit his bloodstream he sank forward, nearly toppling over. A handful of his hair in a soldier's fist kept him upright long enough to see a man enter the destroyed room. It was a man he recognized: from Izabelle's memories and from her worst nightmares.

"Very good, Harlson," said Barrie to the man holding Hank's hair. "It was easier than I thought. I am almost disappointed."

"Sir, the woman is not here."

Barrie waved dismissively. "A trifle. We've gotten what we wanted."

The words hit Hank like cold water. She had been right; they were after the X-Men, not her. She had been an unwilling decoy.

With the only strength left Beast let out a loud roaring growl of dismay.

Barrie only smirked. "Don't worry, McCoy. Your involvement in science does not end here. You are about to be the first success in a new scientific endeavor we've been saving just for you."

A boot to the face and Hank knew no more.

* * *

_X-Men __please __report __to __my __office._ The mental intercom rang out in the minds of all those in the school. Even the least aware among them could sense the tension in Xavier's summon.

So it did not take long for them to arrive. Logan was first and knew immediately something very bad must have gone down. Nick Fury stood in the office talking in low tones to Xavier.

"What are you doin' here, Fury?" He growled. The men weren't on bad terms but he was never happy to see the SHEILD agent.

"All in due time, Logan," Xavier interjected.

As the rest of the team filed in, each took note of Fury and each face registered alarm. The absence of Hank could almost be felt and each knew it must be something involving their friend.

When all were there, Fury began to explain: "Hank McCoy had been captured by the MRD special division. He has been sent to a special processing facility in Nevada, the one mutants don't come back out of."

The effect was instant. Kitty paled and Scott jumped to his feet. Ororo covered her face with her hands and Kurt swore softly in German. Hank was one of the strongest among them. If he had been caught what chance did anyone else have?

"He was overwhelmed and knocked out. They transported him last night. I'm here to tell you what you can do to get him back. It is of interest to SHIELD that he is recovered before permanent damage is done. If nothing else, the government cannot afford the loss of such a powerful mutant rights figure. MRD has overstepped its bounds in this."

"Permanent damage?"

Every eye turned to the door. Izabelle stood, looking more frail than ever, hanging on to the door frame. No one had noticed her and no one knew how long she had been there.

"Charles who is this?" Fury's voice rose with irritation. "If this is compromised-"

"I'm Izabelle Rowan. Hank's …" her voice failed and Fury understood.

"You're the one we need then."

"What?" Izabelle swayed on the spot and two soft bamfs found herself in Kurt's chair. The blue mutant held her hand in his own, realizing the shock that she must be feeling.

Fury addressed the room as a whole again. "Hank is being brain washed. The intended result is that he would be the best mutant hunting weapon we have ever seen. And he would be the first of many. The X-Men have been targets for this unit for a very long time. They are counting on your arrival and failure, which would give them Hank permanently as well as more X-Men to train."

Logan was watching Izabelle closely. She had lost all color and a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead. "That's enough, Fury."

But the SHIELD agent pressed on: "The only real chance you have of recovering him with his mind intact is for this woman to join you, break into the compound, and use her powers to restore as much of his memory as possible. But if that fails-"

It was too much for Izabelle. She was not a solider and she was not at all ready to face the idea that Hank could be lost forever in a very permanent way. The scream that ripped from her was almost enough to shatter glass, or at least that was how it felt. She had suppressed a fade out for weeks and now it broke out like an atomic bomb. The force of it actually knocked the occupants of the room back a few feet or out of their chairs. Jean and Xavier had just enough time to shield themselves. The Professor had attempted to shield the others in the room but he could not be sure the effectiveness…

X-Men picked themselves off of the floor along with Fury.

"What was that, Charles? If this has been compromised-"

"It was Izabelle. It was what you drove her to do."

Fury's eyes followed where Xavier pointed. A woman, white and sick, sat panting in a chair, holding her head in her hands. She looked weak and emotionally wrecked. It seemed as if he had met her in a dream. He knew she was important…but why? He had come to the mansion to explain how to help Beast. Maybe that was it.

When Izabelle pulled her hands away from her face she knew that something terrible had happened. Logan was looking at her warily and Jean looked alarmed.

"Jean?"  
"They only half remember you, Izabelle. We tried to shield them but…"

"No…" a low moan passed Izabelle's lips. "Then how can we possibly help him? Hank never remembered me if there was even a hint of fade out!"

Xavier took control of the situation, freezing Nick Fury in time so he could talk to them alone. "Understand me X-Men. Izabelle's mutations have backfired onto all of you. She is a trusted member of the school and the one who knows Hank's heart best. She must go with you on this mission to recover him. There is enough difficulties ahead of us and her power over memory is our best hope for recovering Hank as he left us. You must trust her as you would trust Jean or myself."

"But Professor, if she controls memory…how are we to know this is real? She could-"

"She's real." Logan interrupted Scott staring straight at Izabelle. "She smells like Hank."

Izabelle glowed but was grateful for Logan's sharp senses. She had not tried as hard as Hank to erase her ex-lover from her life; to her the absence of his cologne on her pillow would be more wrecking than its presence.

She could feel all eyes on her, but she could also feel they were not hostile. They were questioning and confused, seeking the reality in their now fragmented memories. A solution occurred to her and she slowly raised her hands toward the room. Her face screwed up in concentration and her arms began to shake.

She was giving them each a memory. She had never spent much time with the X-Men, but there was a memory she knew they all had at least heard of.

Vividly, Scott remembered but from another's eyes. From Izabelle's point of view he watched Logan chase after her followed by Hank. She saw her throw him and as she stumbled laughing around the corner he saw himself. Scott's jaw dropped as he realized he knew her though he did not remember her; how could that be?

The others wore similar expressions. The memory she had given them showed clear postive relationship with at least three core X-Men and Forge indirectly. It also snagged other memories tied to the one she gave them: who had told them the story, where they were and when, and their own amused reactions.

Izabelle's hands dropped. The room tilted and spun but she could tell it had at least worked a bit. Everything looked bright and shinny before she blacked out, worn to her limit in every possible way. Jean's telekinesis caught her as she fell forward and held her gently in mid air.

"Should it become hard to remember her, go back to that memory," explained Xavier, understanding Izabelle's actions. "She is our connection to Hank's true mind, however deep it may now be buried."

* * *

Hank lay heavily on the floor. He could not resist. He had tried. He had created a segmented part of his mind, a part where he and Izabelle were together, and had hidden away there but it did not matter. They had found him there.

The technology was impossible to explain other than it was telepathy for non-mutants. They had created something very much Cerebro in that it amplified that part of normal humans' minds, creating a sort of telepathy. This of course had been bent to mind control.

He had been informed by Barrie that others had quickly died, their minds not capable of containing the force of the Machine. His exposure to Xavier and Jean Grey gave him a resistance above others. That combined with his natural mutations, made him the perfect subject.

As he lay on the floor he tried to focus his swimming mind on the conversation around him. Maybe he could find a way out of here. But they had kept him so heavily drugged…

Barrie's voice rang out: "No sign of the X-Men yet, McCoy?"

Harlson's voice: "How can you know they will come? They could very well be unaware or see this as a lost cause."

Hank opened his swollen eyes to look at Barrie. His heart fell when he spied the other man's face.

Barrie only grinned. "He has a lover. She will come."

* * *

_Song is 'Don't You Remember' by Adele._

_I'm dying to know what you all think so please review! _


	16. Chapter 16: Objective Amnesia

**Chapter 16: Objective Amnesia**

Scott cast a glance at Izabelle before heading to the front of the plane. She was curled up asleep across two seats. She looked very small and Scott was worried. If this woman was so vital, shouldn't she be stronger. What had wrecked her like this?

Jean seemed to read his mind. "She's stronger than she looks Scott. She's part of Hank's past and we need her powers."

"But Hank was crushed after Trish."

"And Izabelle was crushed before Hank," Jean murmured.

Scott nodded, trying to understand though the memory gaps made it so hard. Jean sensed Izabelle waking and headed to the back of the plane to check on her.

Even in her skintight uniform it was clear that Izabelle had lost weight. The month of break up combined with three days of planning for the strike on MRD had taken a physical toll on her. But she did look stronger than before Fury came. Hank's desperate situation had instilled a sense of purpose in her and she had done what she could to meet the need she saw.

"Hey," Izabelle gave a half smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Izabelle sighed and fiddled with her freshly cut hair. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Would it help to talk about it?"

"I just…I understand that I can help. Even if it was someone I had little connection to I know I could help and I would try but… Jean, he never wanted to even see me again. And to give him my memories of all of that…"

"But it's more than that." Jean Grey could feel the waves of conflicting emotion Izabelle emitted.

"I can't lose him this way," Izabelle whispered, staring at her nails, which were stubs. "I still love him. I want him back. And for him to be gone forever-"

"We will save him! You will save him!"

"He could hardly remember me on a good day, let alone on a fade out. That was why I broke it off."

Jean had not been told and had not asked why they had broken up. They had fought more, yes, but that didn't seem like a large enough reason. But Jean could understand this reason; it was something that shadowed over Izabelle's life.

"Even if we cannot restore his memory, we can get him back to the Professor and he can find a way."

Neither of them mentioned the overhanging doubt; Hank was the strongest mutant any of them knew. How could they subdue him and what would it cost?

* * *

The jet landed in relative obscurity and Izabelle's face drained. She was not really a fighting mutant and hardly on level with the X-Men. Jean could clearly hear her ominous thoughts.

"Don't think like that," she soothed. "You're the one who can save Hank. That's what matters."

"Let's go over the plan again," Scott said. "Jean, Logan, Bobby, myself, and Kurt will go in as the first wave. Angel and Kitty will follow with … Amnesia. We are to protect her at all costs. We are then to use Kitty, Kurt, and Logan to find Hank. Amnesia will restore as much of his memory as she is able. If this does not reverse the damage, we will bring him back by force."

Everyone nodded grimly, hoping it did not come to that.

The first wave departed. While Kitty and Warren looked calm, Izabelle knew them well enough to see the tense look in their eyes. She forced herself to sit still, knowing that her restless picking and fidgeting would only make things more tense.

Finally, the command was given. Warren gently lifted Izabelle into his arms and Kitty hung on to his back. Flying through the ceiling of the plane, they soared for the government compound. Bullets peppered the sky and stung at Izabelle. The bulletproof body suit she had been given saved her life but the bullets stung terribly. Warren soared up above their range, protected in the same kind of suit but vulnerable in his wings.

"Kitty."

"On it."

The bullets zipped straight through them, creeping Izabelle out more than the stinging, and they were soon inside the building.

The X-Men had entered at the ground floor, working up, and the trio entered the top floor and began working down. It was eerily silent as they searched each room they passed.

"It's almost as if this building was never used. As if it were a front," Kitty whispered into her com device.

"That's exactly what it is," Logan's voice rasped back. "Get down here as quickly as you can. Either Hank's been moved or he's further down."

"Right."

Izabelle was leaving a room she had checked, coming to the same conclusions as the others, when she saw Warren and Kitty sink through the floor. They had forgotten her, between the fade out and their minds being occupied by other things.

Izabelle bit her knuckles hard enough to split them open to keep from screaming. She was all alone.

* * *

As Kitty and Warren dropped down to them, Jean's heart fell. She and the Professor had known there was a possibility of this happening. They had forgotten Izabelle.

She fought to keep her voice steady. "Where is Izabelle?"

"I'm sorry?" Warren asked, ever polite.

"The woman we are protecting at all costs? The woman who can save Hank?"

Kitty's face went bright red. "We forgot her. Oh, Jean, I'm so –"

Jean waved away the apology and concentrated. Izabelle was alone and there were no guards near her.

"_Izabelle?"_

The young woman jumped at the mental communication but focused her thoughts. _"__Jean,__they__left__me__and__I__don__'__t__know__where__you__are.__"_

"_There's no one near you. Take the first set of stairs that you see and meet us down here."_

"_Got __it!__"_ Izabelle sped off.

"I was able to get a hold of her and-"

A groan behind her stopped her in mid sentence. Warren fell heavily, a dart poking out of one of his open wings.

"Get out of here!" Scott roared and the X-Men, bearing Warren between them, took off.

The focus on the missing Izabelle had unintentionally served as the perfect distraction for the MRD. Though the building above was a front they knew the maze of halls well and it soon became clear to the X-Men that the only way out would be fighting.

* * *

Izabelle knew something was very wrong when she stepped out into the hall and saw four crumpled feathers lying on the floor. Using what little tracking she could employ in the cold halls, she soon heard guns combined with the familiar sounds of her own team members.

Something warned her against running to join them and she peered just around the corner. What greeted her eyes brought a wave of sickness over her.

Kurt was stumbling with one arm bleeding and held to his thin torso. Angel was out cold on the floor with Bobby guarding him. A dart in the neck and Bobby dropped like a rock. While Jean and Scott could hold their side, the limitless outpouring of forces would soon wear them down. Kurt tripped over a body and did not rise again. Kitty darted over to move him out of danger and a shooter took the opportunity for another well-placed dart. Logan had his back to Izabelle and could not see her. No amount of darts could take him out so he bristled with them like a hellish hedgehog.

Izabelle could see where the shooter was hidden and he was unaware of her. While she had never killed a person in her life, she knew she could not stand by. They had risked a lot to bring her here and to save Hank. Snagging a gun from a body nearby she edged along the wall until she was under the dart shooter, standing on a metal walkway above her. Taking careful aim she fired.

Blood sprayed down on her, which should have been obvious but had not really occurred to her. She but down on her lip to suppress a scream. The shooter grabbed his foot and arm close to his body. Not killed, but stopped from more damage.

But Izabelle had given away her position. Logan's eyes snapped onto her along with a dozen other soldiers. And in that moment, he whose memory was so shattered remembered her clearly.

"RUN!"

Without a pause for thought Izabelle obeyed. A roar erupted behind her and her last sight was of Logan throwing himself into the men tailing her.

But it would not be that easy to get away. With terror coursing through her Izabelle ran as she had never run before. She remembered clearly as system of hanging ducts on one of the top floors. If she could lose the men following her it would be the perfect place to hide until some plan became clear.

But the men were only gaining on her. This left but one option. And it was nothing Izabelle had ever tried before.

She stopped hard and spun to face the men. Recalling to mind the day Bobby had confronted her about the breakup she threw her hands at them. Again, the force knocked them back through the air and slammed them into the floor.

She did not stay for the screaming that she knew would follow. She had given them one of her worst memories and she had no idea how long it would last or with what sort of vivacity.

It had been a post-breakup nightmare and one that had morphed after the current mission went underway.

It had involved a wood and a prairie…_It __was __twilight. __Izabelle __had __been __running __much __as __she __was __now. __But __something __had __been __close __on __her __heels. __It __had __knocked __her __down __and __torn __her __arm __from __her __body. __Running __more __lopsided __she __was __again __knocked __over __and __her __hip __was __broken. __It __was __now __impossible __to __move. __She __lay __on __her __back, __exposed __in __the __prairie. __For __some __reason __she __was __naked. __And __then __he __had __walked __out __of __the __wood. __Beast. __Huge, __blood-stained, __and __not __even __human. __She __could __not __run __and __she __was __bleeding __out. __His __huge __jaws __craned __down, __closing __on __her __neck__…_She had always woke screaming.

* * *

Jean Grey paced the cell. Across from her was Wolverine and next to her was Kurt. Electric currents made it hard to move and dampened Kurt's ability to teleport outside the cell. Scott had been given a helmet, clamping the visor over his eyes and closing off the controls to it.

Kitty slowly rose through the floor looking exhausted. The effort of bringing herself through the charged floors prevented her from attempting with anyone else. "I couldn't find her Jean. I didn't see her in any of the other cells and I couldn't find her in the building. If you can sense her she must be hiding in the building somewhere."

Jean focused and could clearly sense Izabelle. But anything else, where she was or in what condition, was closed off to her.

The redhead sighed heavily. "We will have to assume she is okay. I don't know what else we can do. If we can get Hank, then she will know what to do."

Nodding, Kitty passed through the wall into Kurt's cell, toward her own cell.

The lights went down and darkness settled on the compound.

* * *

Further in, somewhere in the dark labyrinth of halls, Izabelle lay shaking in an air duct. The X-Men had been caught and she had escaped. While this could appear to be a blessing, she was more terrified than before; she was much weaker and isolated now. There was no way she could find and save Hank alone.

Against all of her energies, Izabelle felt sleep soaking through her. Her weakness from the past struggles, combined with the high nerves, was overpowering. Her last waking thought was that she could not run if she were asleep.

Izabelle woke to someone's hand yanking her out of the conduit by her hair. Awake instantly, she shielded her face from the raw metal edges before fighting her attackers. But these were a whole different kind of man. Even Wolverine after she yelled at him about Hank being sick all those months ago had held back; he was a gentleman with a code of conduct. These men held back nothing.

A kick to the kidneys sent pain through her body and fear for her vital organs. Spinning around to protect her back, someone grabbed her head in their hands and brought it crashing into a wall.

Her knees gave and she collapsed.

As she looked up through double vision, she recognized Barrie strolling toward her.

He grinned down at her before kicking her in the stomach. As she moaned, he crouched beside her, stroking her cheek. "I was wondering when we would find you. Was it part of their plan? Or another clumsy mistake? No matter. You will see them, and your bestial lover, again. We have something very special planned for you."

Izabelle passed beyond understanding as men bent to carry her away, further down and further into the darkness.

* * *

Whether it was morning or day none of them knew. But they were awakened and forcibly brought to a platform. The handcuffs contained the same debilitating current and they were placed on a platform that froze them completely. They faced off with Barrie, each frozen and full of hate and fear.

"As I'm sure you know," Barrie began, pacing around them calmly, "we have tracked Miss Rowan and McCoy for quite some time. It was our object to capture McCoy and test a certain scientific endeavor on him. Why him, you might be wondering? He is much stronger than most of you and has favorable mutations for what we will require of him. Your Wolverine –"

He stopped inches from Logan's face and smiled. "- has far fewer weaknesses than your so called doctor. His weakness was obvious. Find the girl, find the doctor."

With a sinking heart, Jean knew without a doubt that they had found Izabelle. Wherever she had hidden or whatever she had done had failed. Why, then, was she not here with them?

"I shall now explain to you what exactly we plan for you." A screen flickered to life and for the first time in nearly a week the X-Men laid eyes on Henry McCoy.

He looked like a hellish fiend: his fur stood straight out and there was no sign of human life in his actions or expressions. He had been reduced to Beast.

"We have managed, through various discoveries, to copycat your dear Xavier's Cerebro in some ways. Ours however, does not search or find. No. Ours serves a greater purpose."

Barrie placed a helmet over his head and faced the panel opposite them. "Stand, Beast."

To their great alarm, Hank stood without hesitation or thought.

"He will follow whatever command he is given. This is where you come in."

The platform began to rise and a hole opened up above them.

"You will be placed in an environment with Beast. He will have his orders and you will, I am sure, try to upset them. This is our final test for the weapon."

The platform had passed the floor of the room and stopped two stories in midair. The floor was modeled after a prairie, with a stand of trees at the other end and a high hill. Their eyes were drawn to the hill. The floor closed and the current ended, freeing them.

"Look!" Logan grabbed Jean and spun her to face the hill. There was a figure on it. As her mind registered who it was Jean Grey drained of color.

A post was driven into the ground of the hill. A person's hands were bound to the post, scabbed and hanging above her head. The garments the person had been allowed were not much. The woman was very nearly naked, showing bruises and cuts from ill treatment. Three long gashes trailed her thigh and back. All hope seemed to have left the woman, her head fallen forward against the post. Barrie's voice rang out through the room and Izabelle's head lifted, her face streaked with tears and her mouth gagged.

"The final test of Weapon Beast is to destroy Objective Amnesia. All who interfere will be killed."

The floor on the prairie opened. Hank's own platform raised him into the coliseum. There was a moment's pause. He locked eyes with the X-Men.

Then, the fight began.

* * *

_It's evil but I'm a sucker for cliff-hangers!_

_It's looking like 2 or 3 more chapters from here! _

_Thank you to my reviewers! _

_Let me know what you think and receive an excerpt of the coming chapter in return!_


	17. Chapter 17: Only Hope

**Chapter 17: Only Hope**

"Protect her!" Scott shouted. Even if he did not know who this mutant was he would not let her be slaughtered.

"Kurt!" But before Jean even had to speak Kurt had teleported away.

Izabelle collapsed as sharp teeth bit through the ropes binding her to the post. Kurt lifted her easily as the roaring Beast came crashing through the trees in their direction. There was a bamf and they were gone.

Izabelle's first inclination was to cover herself. Her second was to lean over and be sick.

"I'm sorry, fraulein, but ve must keep moving." Kurt gently took her by the elbow and they were away again.

There was a burning and Kurt could feel something throwing them to the ground. He had tried to teleport out of the dome they were in but his powers were being blocked. He rushed back to where Izabelle had landed and reached to teleport them again.

"Stop! Please!" She held up a hand, stopping him from reaching her.

The German was surprised by her reaction. "But ve vere told to save you…"

"They tested him on me already. He can't be stopped. I tried…" She stood before him and indicated her exposed body.

Long gashes ran down her back and across her inner thigh to her hip. Gashes that were very clearly claw marks. They had left her unclothed not only to humiliate and remove protection, but to display the proof of their work on Hank. Kurt met her eyes. There was nothing to say.

Pulling the top half of his uniform off, Kurt handed it to Izabelle. "Here."

Obviously too big but better than near nudity, Izabelle slipped into it quickly. From across the compound a furious roar went up. Beast had discovered she was no longer there.

Panic flashed across the pair's faces.

"Ve must subdue him. I have to keep you moving."

The fight had gone out of Izabelle and she assented weakly. There was a puff of sulfur smoke and they were off again.

* * *

The X-Men watched Kurt and Izabelle disappear and heard the roar from Beast.

"Elf's smart enough to keep her moving. We need to make sure Hank doesn't find them though," Logan growled.

Scott nodded. "Our best hope is to subdue him." But as he said this Beast's eyes met his own across the distance and Beast let out a roar that gave him chills. This had once been his friend.

"And how would we do that?" asked Kitty, the worry very clear in her voice.

BAMF!

"I left her in a tree. I'll go back in a moment," Kurt began rapidly. "I can't teleport out of here. They had him hurt Izabelle last night as a kind of test. She can't get through to him."

Another puff of smoke and he was gone.

"Oh god…" whispered Bobby. Hank loved Izabelle; if he had hurt her he must be really far gone.

"Spread out. Kitty, try the walls. If you can, get Izabelle out. Warren and Jean in the air. Logan, myself, and Bobby on the ground. Don't kill him, just knock him out if you can."

Blue fur flew at the platform the X-Men stood on and they scattered.

* * *

Everything was worse from a spectator's view. Kurt had secured her in a tree and Izabelle could only watch as the fight unfolded.

The X-Men cared about Hank, assuming he was still under Beast somewhere. Because of this they were limited in what they could do and how they could do it. Not surprisingly Logan held back the least, but he was also at a disadvantage in that his powers were only of a close fighting nature.

Kurt held Izabelle tightly with his tail when she spun to face him.

"The rope!" She hissed. "Get it to them and they may be able to bind him!"

"Promise me you vill stay here."

She nodded earnestly, ready to promise almost anything if it meant they could get Hank back unharmed.

She saw Kurt appear on the hill with the post. He worked at the rope with great focus, trying to get as much of it undamaged as possible. It was as if a switch went of in Beast's mind. He ran at Kurt like a blue freight train and hit him just as hard. The thin devilish figure lay still.

Izabelle balled up in her branch, screaming erupting in her mind. She could not make a sound, knowing Beast would hear her, but Kurt was injured and it was her fault.

Swooping to gather Kurt, Angel went down next. The post, swung by the rope, made an excellent sort of morning-star.

Below her, Izabelle heard Kitty running by and Scott met up with her a few trees away. "The walls repel but the floors do not. I can get her through the floor."

"Find her and let us know when you get her out."

In an attempt to draw their attention, Izabelle gave a light whistle. Surely with Jean and Bobby and Logan working on Hank he would not notice. As Kitty and Scott looked up at her, tied into the tree, two loud cries were heard and then silence. With a glance she could see Hank, staring straight at her, and circling him was Logan. Bobby lay in a growing pool of blood and Jean hung at an alarming angle from a tree limb.

Shaking, Izabelle's hands worked at the knot Kurt had tied, but the sounds of Beast gaining ground against Logan prevented her from any real progress. Another problem quickly became apparent. Kurt had chosen an oak because it would be harder for Beast to climb with no lower limbs. But no one else could reach her either.

"Scott!" The yell ripped from Izabelle. The leader assessed the situation and decided there was only one effective way of getting her out of the tree.

The branch splintered and fell and Kitty waited to catch her and phase her through the floor. Without warning, a blue paw effortlessly swept Kitty off of her feet and threw her in the path of the falling branch. Beast was now waiting where she had stood moments before. All this Izabelle took in before the inevitable impact with the ground. She felt her collarbone snap like a dead twig and lost sight of Kitty in the smaller branches and leaves that landed where she lay. It was a small mercy the main branch had not landed on Shadowcat.

There was the sound of a laser blast and smell of burnt fur. Beast was knocked off balance and it gave enough of a window for Logan to cut her free.

"Run!"

But Izabelle had begun running as soon as she had been freed. It hurt to breathe and her ribs were painful to touch. If she walked away from all of this with only broken ribs and collarbone she would be exceedingly lucky, she realized.

Something was wrong. She stopped running.

There was silence.

Izabelle listened. Had they won?

But no. Somewhere she heard the far off sound of splashing. Of struggling in water. Her legs buckled and she grabbed a tree for support. It was the only way to really kill Wolverine and Hank had known that.

She had to go back. She had to save him. It was so stupid, them all being wrecked to save her. If she only died he would stop and they could do something else. And her life was not worth Logan's, not in the grand scheme of things.

* * *

Wolverine was convinced he would finally die. He could not get his footing in the pond and Beast held him tightly under the water. He thrashed violently, but without his claws he was just a man who almost couldn't die. There was always the option of cutting off Hank's arms, but that would surely kill him. There had to be some other option, but he needed it fast.

"STOP IT!"

Logan's head was released and he reeled up, gasping air and falling over into the water.

"Izabelle!" he rasped, " What are you doin'?"

"Saving you," she whispered. She took off running and a moment later Beast followed.

Logan collapsed in the mud that lined the shore. He couldn't do a thing, half drowned as he was. He could only hope Izabelle could rescue Hank.

Izabelle's breath came in and out in half screams as she heard Beast bear down on her. She would die and he would be the one to kill her. She reached the stretch of open field when and arm lifted her off of her feet and tossed her on her back in the tall grass.

There was total silence.

Beast had been a blur since this horror began and for the first time Izabelle really saw him: burns ringed by singed fur, blood matted, swollen, and bruised, but above all a crazy death glint in his eye.

She began to sob. This was Hank. This was the man who had helped her overcome her mutation. Her best friend. Her lover. Somewhere under this he was human and he was hers.

In a few long strides he was standing over her. He took her head in one large hand and yanked her forward so she knelt before him. She screamed in terror despite herself.

Somewhere on the other end of the stadium, Kurt stirred.

Beast began to squeeze, the muscles standing out in his hand and arm. It was a feeling she could not even describe but Izabelle knew she was going to die.

She had loved him…

"HENRY!" The plea burst out of her and in that moment they froze, locked together. Finally locating them, Scott stopped dead and stared. A flow of white light ran between the two and held both still as marble.

Tears poured out of Izabelle's locked eyes as their relationship flooded through her memory. Completely unaware of what she was doing, she had accessed his memory and now poured herself into him like water into a glass.

_The first misunderstanding about her shirt and the EKG tabs_

_Hank diving to save her from a confused Cannonball_

_The attack on the school and her fear for his life_

_Hank suffering heatstroke_

_Seeing Hank while in her underwear in the Danger Room_

_The art gallery_

_The kiss_

_Waking together, curled up in each other's arms_

_The attack on the beach_

_The breakup_

And as Hank remained rigid he experienced her heartbreak at their separation, the sense of loss and regret. A tear fell from his eye and ran a path down his cheek.

Already weakened as she was the deep burst of memory could not be maintained for long. What she had given him had to be enough; there was no more she could do. Eyes rolling in her head she went limp, unfreezing Hank. His hand opened automatically and she fell forward.

Scott rushed to her, shoving Hank away and protecting her body. Hank's eyes seemed to clear and the pupils dilated. He stared around him and his eyes rested on Cyclops.

"Scott?"

There was a puff of smoke and a cluster of X-Men appeared. Kurt had managed to collect each one of his teammates. It was extremely fortunate that the blood covering Iceman was only from a gash on the head and not a fatal injury. Though they were all seriously injured, none were fatal.

"What happened?" Hank hurt everywhere and weakness was seeping into him. He sounded dazed but it was the first words he had spoken since they had arrived in the arena.

"You, Hank. You happened," Logan rasped, coughing up large amounts of water.

With a cry of alarm, Hank remembered. Remembered being abducted, being brainwashed, hurting someone on command, hunting that person. And remembered his entire relationship from Izabelle's eyes.

"Who was I after?"

Their silence told him clearly.

"Let me see her!"

"Hank, it wasn't you," Scott began.

"Let me SEE HER!"

Scott stepped back and Hank fell to his knees. She was not dead, but she was terrible to look at: messy, dressed in Kurt's shirt, bloody, swollen, and a collarbone that was clearly broken.

He leaned over her and took her up in his arms.

"My love…" Hank whispered, a tear dropping onto her cheek.

The X-Men took a step back as a scream of pain and rage ripped from their friend. The MRD would pay for using him in this way.

"Take her," Hank ordered, gently passed her off to Angel and Jean.

"Hank you can't do this alone. She came here to save you, not see you killed," Scott objected.

"And I have no intention of dying. But she can't come where we are going."

"We can't fight them. Not to probe a sore issue but you kinda made sure of that," Logan was looking better, his healing now kicking in.

"We will not need to. I have an idea. If we can wake Izabelle I think we can all get out of here alive."

* * *

"Hell damn hell!" Barrie let off a streak as blue as his uniform the moment Hank took Izabelle in his arms. What was left but escape? The soldiers stared at him, unsure of how to handle the situation.

"Sir, Project Beast has failed," said Harlson. "What do we do now?"

"Sound the alarm. We've got to get out of here!"

Shoving aside a lower soldier Barrie took off down a corridor. Too late. The way was blocked by Kitty Pryde dropping from the ceiling holding Wolverine.

Run the other way. Same but with that demonic one and Cyclops.

Tear off down a hall to the left. To the machine. There should be residual influence he could use to regain control.

Bursting into the room he found Hank sitting at the controls. Running drew near and the X-Men were behind him. An alarm went off overhead.

"Barrie. I am quite sure you did not expect to converse with me again. And yet here is your chance." Hank tossed him like a child into the control panels, crushing the helmet used for the brainwashing under him.

"This is a government base! You cannot escape this! If you kill me it will only bring the government down on your freakish heads!" Barrie shouted, shaking glass shards off of his back.

"And that is where you are wrong." Hank lifted the military man easily by his throat. Scott made a move to stop him but Kurt stepped in his path.

"The government will not so much as sneeze at us because you will clear our names and walk us back to our plane." Hank dropped the gasping man to the floor. There was so much residual fury in him and it took his best restraint to keep from ripping Barrie in half. Turning instead to the computers he slammed both hands into the system, grabbing and ripping out with both hands.

"You've destroyed the machine! You will be lucky to leave alive, let alone be released by me!"

"And yet you will. For you see, Barrie," Hank stood over him, clearly the bigger man in many ways, "my lover, whom you set me after to kill, works in memory. There is no secret conversation, no action, no sight or sound or touch that she cannot reveal to the world. All of my memories are hers."

"Then we kill her."

"Yet not before they have been passed out a thousand times over to any and all she can. And in the hands of Charles Xavier…who knows where they could go."

Barrie's eyes flicked up to his. This was the truth of the situation. He had gambled on the perfect couple to trap but had misjudged her powers. What had once been a weak self-harming mutation could now be used to divulge any secret she knew. They would be ruined and shut down. He would be executed. This machine was not even known outside of this building.

"Let me out of this room. I'll do as you ask."

Scott and Logan stepped aside. The moment he passed them Kitty swiftly dove at the machine.

"No!"

There was a shower of sparks and fire. The flames began to lick up the walls and Kitty jogged back over to them. "Better get out of here!"

Pushing Barrie before them with a blade tickling his ribs, orders were given to evacuate the building and that the mutants had been pardoned. Shoving him into the arms of his troops, the X-Men raced for the top floor of the building.

There the jet waited for them, Jean shielding them as best she could.

Not surprisingly, Hank was out the moment he stopped moving, pushed beyond what nearly any other could endure. His last sight was Angel giving blood to Izabelle.

* * *

_One more chapter! :-D_

_As always sorry this took FOREVER to get out! Break actually kept me from writing, rather than giving me time for it! _

_As always thank you for the reviews! They are so encouraging! _


	18. Chapter 18: Happy Endings

**Chapter 18: Happy Endings**

Izabelle woke twice before she actually awoke. The first time was when Jean Grey was tending to her on the plane. As her head fell weakly to the side she caught sight of Hank. He was in as bad a condition as she was but his eyes absorbed her totally. Reaching across the gap between them, he too her hand in his and squeezed gently. She then slipped back into sleep, her hand still in his.

The second time she knew clearly that she was at the mansion. She also knew that someone was watching her with the assumption that she was asleep. This someone held her hand and was murmuring pieces of songs to her. Feeling protected she allowed herself to fall back to sleep.

When she finally woke, she was alone. Breathing slowly, she remembered the events of the days before. Indeed Hank's own memories had been passed too her as a guarantee for her safe return to the mansion. But all of these events and memories only caused a storm of emotion in her.

Hank was safe. Hank was of his right mind again. This elated her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. But Hank was not hers. She had helped to save the man she loved but their relationship was still broken. And all the elated pieces of her seemed to fragment under the heartache that knowledge brought.

"Glad to see you awake," Xavier's voice called to her, entering the room and reaching the side of her bed.

"Glad to be awake, Professor." He smiled at her but there was a 'coincidence' in his presence there at the exact moment she woke up that suggested he had a purpose.

Xavier smiled. "You are as good at reading my mind as I am at reading yours. I would indeed like to lay things before you, so to speak. Much has happened in the last two days."

Izabelle nodded, knowing that there was no point in rushing him to what she really wanted to ask.

"You will be interested to learn that Barrie and his special division of MRD has disappeared. Not the people alone but the entire building."

Izabelle sat up fast enough to make her dizzy and lay back down. "What happened?"

"Obviously, we are not sure. Records have it down as chemical explosion. We have been informed by SHIELD, however, that they had a particular interest in seeing Barrie's project come to an end."

"He's dead then?"

"It would appear so."

Izabelle shuddered. If anyone had a right to wish someone's death she was sure it would be her but she just could not imagine taking pleasure in it.

"As for more positive news…" Xavier allowed a smile to creep across his face. Izabelle knew exactly what he meant and blushed.

"As you could guess, your powers surged when you broke the brainwashing on Hank. As with anything there is positives and negatives. The negative is that your powers seem to have weakened, almost as if they were burned up in the energy that it took. The positive is that with weaker powers comes weaker fade outs and much less frequent as well."

She could not believe her ears. Less power and less fade outs seemed like the ideal life!

"As you can imagine, Henry is the one who has been tending you. There was nearly violence when Logan tried to pull him away from you to treat him. At first you were one of the only things he could remember clearly and without any break. His memory is restored now and I took the liberty of removing your memories from his mind. No one should know everything their significant other thinks."

Tears glittered in Izabelle's eyes and she could not help but smile. She missed Hank so much…

"But again there is a negative."

Her heart fell and Xavier could actually feel the drop.

"You are in a fade out now. As you might imagine, your body needed as much reserve energy as it could to recover so it placed you in a fade out. I do believe that the fade out could be countered if you were to talk to Hank. You are bonded to him and his memories now."

"When, Professor?"

"He will be down here after training. About an hour."

* * *

Izabelle stood, looking into the lab. She had changed, showered, and changed five or six more times. It was autumn and over a year had passed since they had first met. But it was also nearly two months since they had split up. What if he would truly prefer to forget her?

She knocked lightly on the door and Hank turned to face her. Her heart flipped and she moved into the center of the room.

Hank watched a lovely young woman enter his lab. She looked at him very expectantly and her cheeks glowed. She was familiar somehow…

"Can I help you, Miss…?"

"Rowan," she whispered, fighting to find her voice.

"Familiar…" murmured Hank. He had known someone with that name and it seemed important to him…No matter.  
"Xavier suggested I speak to you."

"Indeed," Hank answered. He remembered Xavier telling him something about this and now he felt uncomfortable realizing that he could not remember why he was to speak to her. He moved toward her subconsciously.

"I believe we knew each other well before…" Izabelle offered, hoping to somehow trigger a memory somewhere in his mind.

Hank was embarrassed. How could he forget someone he knew well? Somewhere in the back of his mind a spark went up. He had heard of a mutation like that…

"How well?" he asked uncomfortably.

Izabelle entwined her hand in his. There was a rightness to it that Hank could feel but he still could not remember. "Very well," Izabelle answered.

She searched his face and saw that he could not remember her. He was trying, bless him, but she was a blank in his mind. She pulled her hand away and headed for the door.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, trying to fight back tears. He would remember her later, she knew he would, but she had just hoped…

Hank's mind raced. Her hand. Her hand on the plane…The plane! The wave of memories nearly overwhelmed him.

"Izabelle!"

She stopped halfway through the door. Spinning around she saw Hank watching her, eyes glowing. In a few steps they met in the middle of the room.

"Of course I remember you," Hank soothed as he gathered her into his arms. "I love you."

Any further words were drowned in a passionate kiss.

* * *

The response to the rebirth of their relationship was greeted on all sides with reactions of 'We hoped you would!'

They were both relieved and overjoyed that the miserable stretch was behind them. Izabelle freely admitted her insecurity and Hank freely admitted his pride. But it was not so easy to find their way back to what they had been before. There were scars that needed healing, emotional and physical and often linked. Even as they made love, the scars on Izabelle's thigh and back reminded them of Beast's attacks. And while her memories had been removed from his mind, Hank still had ghosts of those memories, memories of memories, and some were far less than pleasant.

Other side effects of the kidnap and rescue of Hank McCoy were even less expected. Izabelle awoke one day and let out a scream that made Hank shoot up fast enough to smack his head on the hardwood headboard.

"What, Izabelle?"

"I'm OLD!"

Hank began to point out the absurdity of this and stopped. Her face was noticeably older. Not 'old' as she had claimed, but she actually looked mid thirties for the first time since he had known her.

"That's … a surprise…"

After letting out a cry of despair, she punched him in the arm.

Hank tested her in every way he could think of and could only come up with a guess. He guessed that before, with her mutation overpowering her in many ways, her powers had actually prevented her from aging any time she was in a fade out; it was like pausing her existence, even physically, when she faded out.

Hank actually liked the little crow's feet that had blossomed in the corners of her eyes and the smile lines that creased her cheeks. She laughed a lot and her cheerful personality now showed; that and he no longer felt like he had a 'child bride' when they would go out together, a comment that earned him another punch in the arm but a laugh as well. Though as insecure as anyone else about looking old, Hank's adoration of her 'new face' brought Izabelle to terms with it fairly quickly.

And as time moved forward they did too. It was nearly winter when Izabelle found herself tickling Hank between the ribs as he tried to tie his shoe and found herself thinking that this felt natural again. Hank caught her eye and she could tell that he felt the same. The only problem that remained between them was a mutual though hidden feeling that it was all still so fragile. They had been torn apart once and the idea of this occurring again gave each of them chills.

That day Izabelle moved in with Hank.

* * *

Logan grumbled to himself and nudged Izabelle less than gently with the cart he was pushing. She stumbled a little out of his way and stuck her tongue out at him.

Charles had the brilliant idea that since grocery delivery was out due to the snow that Logan should lead a "mission" to get them food. And now he was stuck with Izabelle, Hank, Kurt, and every other cooped up idiot in the mansion.

A smile flitted at the corner of his mouth as he watched Hank teasing Izabelle further down the aisle. They had moved in together nearly three months ago.

"You kids should just get over it and tie the knot already," Logan called to them, loading a giant bag of cereal into the cart.

"That all depends, doesn't it," Izabelle called back, her eyes trained on Hank.

"On what?" Logan asked, now heading over to the bread aisle.

"On if he asks me."

Jean and Scott joined them, carrying gallons of milk between them. "Asks you what?" panted Scott, dropping the milk in the cart.

"T' marry her," grinned Logan.

Jean's face lit up but she kept her mouth shut and elbowed Scott as he began to advise. _"Just wait, Scott."_

"I wouldn't say that's all it depends on," Hank said, an odd tone in his voice.

"Well, of course I could ask you myself but you've always been the gauge of when things should be done, haven't you?"

Hank stopped dead, and looked at her even more oddly. Logan stopped shopping to watch the two of them.

"I always thought to gauge by _you_."

Izabelle laughed. "Henry, I would marry you if you asked me here and now."

In the dead silence that followed, Jean sent a mental shout to the rest of the X-Men. _"Get over here as fast as you can!"_

So when the rest of their group came running, they were greeted with totally unexpected sight of Hank on one knee in front of Izabelle.

"Henry," Izabelle whispered, "this is Wal-Mart."

"Izabelle," he teased, "I know."

She laughed and tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes as he took her hands in his.

"Izabelle Mia Rowan," he began in a booming voice, causing general laughter, "here, in this Wal-Mart, before these friends and people who just wanted to buy bread, I have something I must ask you."

A group of shoppers had now gathered around the group of X-Men and some old ladies giggled.

He lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. "Would you marry me?"

Too choked up to speak, Izabelle nodded vigorously. Standing and sweeping her up in his arms in one fluid movement, Hank spun her around. The little knot clapped and began to break up and go back to their shopping. Izabelle's feet touched ground again and she pulled Hank's face to hers. Breaking off from the kiss she grinned at him.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

_The end!_

_I think this is my favorite thing I have ever written! :-)_

_If you haven't reviewed, please do so and tell me what you think of the story! Since I can't offer a preview I can offer the story of how I came up with Izabelle's mutation!_

_Thank you everyone for reading! _

_Tati K_


	19. Post Script

**Post Script**

In a surprise moment of inspiration, another story with Izabelle and Hank came to me all on its own.

So this is just to announce the sequel: Unexpected Expecting. The first chapter is up and many more are to follow!

Enjoy!

Tati K


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